Reciprocal Symmetry
by RadioShack84
Summary: Rodney is trapped underground and running out of air. Can John remember why he’s on PX9-253 in time to rescue him and if so, can they free themselves from the deadly technological trap they’re both already ensnared in? Shep whump, minor Rodney whump.
1. Dazed and Confused

A/N: This story is complete in 12 chapters and will be updated Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, give or take a day.

**Reciprocal, **_**adj.**_**, **1. given or felt by each for the other.

**Symmetry, **_**n.**_**,** 1. A relationship of characteristic correspondence, equivalence, or identity among constituents of a system or between different systems.

**Chapter 1 – Dazed and Confused**

John Sheppard awoke in darkness, instantly alert. The familiar burn of adrenaline flooding his bloodstream and the abrupt return to wakefulness made him feel as though he'd just experienced a nightmare, but the residual eerie sensation that usually accompanied such fleeting images wasn't present. As he forced his rapid breathing to slow, he realized that what he was feeling was more akin to waking from a dreamless sleep and finding himself _inside_ a nightmare.

Not starting in the slightest when an immense clap of thunder assaulted his eardrums, he threw aside the afghan that had been covering his body and rolled off the sofa, coming upright in a low crouch. His senses sharp, John quickly assessed his surroundings. It appeared he was alone, in a neatly-furnished one-story cabin. He took in the exposed wooden rafters and large oak-paned windows that were intermittently illuminated by lightning and his instincts began to tell him that something was terribly wrong. A glance at his torn and bloody uniform confirmed his suspicions.

Sheppard headed for the other end of the cabin, dodging bits of paper from the desk by the window and other debris that the storm whipped in through the open door. Snatching up his vest, P-90, and sidearm from a low shelf next to the fireplace, he turned back for the entryway and walked quickly toward it, paying little mind to the body with the gaping throat wound that he had to step over to cross into the ill-tempered weather beyond the walls of the building.

John's boots crunched on gravel upon exiting the cabin, and he thought the path to his left looked somewhat familiar, but the one to his right was the important one. He was certain of that, though he didn't know why. What he did know was that _something_ was out here, something important, and he needed to find it fast. For Rodney's sake.

"Who's Rodney?" John pondered aloud, blinking down at his feet. Wind whipped at him, errant strands of hair brushing across his eyelids. Swiping them out of the way, he shrugged. If he could just find what he was looking for, he was certain the rest would come to him. Mind made up, he set out to his right.

Just past the cabin, the path inclined slightly and continued that way for a few yards before beginning the steeper ascent into the surrounding hills. Lightning scorched the night sky above, illuminating the desolate landscape. Crumbling stone structures dotted the higher ground, their shapes melting seamlessly to join the gravel beneath his feet. The loose gravel. Sheppard's foot slipped and he scrabbled precariously against the rocky slope, eventually regaining his balance.

Rational thought suggested that he slow down, but he was just too jittery. Besides, he didn't have the time. He needed to continue his search before it was too late for McKay. "McKay…McKay…Doctor McKay…" Sheppard muttered while he climbed. "Arrogant genius…Atlantis astrophysicist. McKay. Rodney. Rodney McKay. Doctor Rodney McKay. Yes…Rodney. Help Rodney."

The ground leveled off abruptly and John stumbled, overcompensating with the sudden lack of incline. A group of stone structures stood before him. Odd. They had seemed much further away while looking up at them from the cabin. Shrugging again, he stepped toward the central structure, the only one that was still mostly intact. Formed of white and grey marble, or whatever passed for marble here, the building was circular in shape, its roof gently domed.

Inside, he was met by rows and rows of shelves. Strange objects of Ancient origin lined the shelves and John was fairly sure that whatever he was searching for lay within this room. It looked similar to the room from earlier. He stared at his feet again in confusion, growing frustrated by the vague sense of déjà vu. How was it that he remembered this place from before, yet didn't remember it? How long ago was _before_?

Outside, the darkness was again streaked with electricity, and a sickly pallor was cast across everything in John's midst through the translucent dome. Distracted by the flash, yet still deeply agitated, he jumped when a voice sounded in his ear.

"Sheppard, this is McKay. Come in."

John's fingers automatically brushed past his ear and he frowned. "McKay?" he questioned.

"Yes, who did you expect? Caldwell?"

"No…"

A moment passed before the voice continued, "Oh. Well, good. In that case, I could use your help."

"McKay?" John said again.

"Yes, I think we've sufficiently established that that's my name," the voice snapped. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Trying…where are you?" John looked around the room, searching for the voice that seemed so close to him.

"I don't know, not exactly."

"Are you hiding? I can't see you." Sheppard switched on the light of his P-90 and shone it around, between rows of shelving and under tables and chairs.

The voice on the radio sighed impatiently. "Well of course you can't _see_ me, Colonel. Not unless you also wandered into an underground science laboratory." There was a pause, and the voice continued with a good measure of alarm, "Oh my God, you didn't somehow follow me, did you? Because that would be very, very bad from where I'm standing!"

"Where are you standing?" Sheppard asked absently, fingering a cube-shaped object on a workbench, fascinated by the turquoise glow it gave off at his touch.

"I don't _know_! Are you paying any attention to me, Colonel? Colonel!"

"What are you yelling about? I'm not deaf, just busy."

"Well sorry to interrupt your target practice or perimeter-walking or whatever macho military activity you're currently engaged in, Colonel, but my life may very well be in danger here! So if you would kindly get your macho military-goon ass in gear, my genius astrophysicist ass might actually have a chance at surviving the day!"

"Right…okay. Just have to find this one thing, then I can help Rodney." Sheppard turned his head and his light to the workbench opposite where he was standing, a glint of shiny metal catching his eye.

"Yes, help Rodney! Helping Rodney is a very good idea…uh, Sheppard, why are we talking in third-person?" The voice went from sounding hopeful to confused and slightly concerned. "Sheppard?"

John ignored the voice's question and stepped toward the shiny object at the edge of the table. It was rectangular and roughly the size of Rodney's tablet computer, though slightly thicker, and appeared to be solid metal with the exception of the two touch plates that were set into its surface. There was writing in Ancient on each of the plates, which may have been helpful to Rodney, but the characters meant nothing to John.

The plate on the right was lit a steady sea green and brightened a little at Sheppard's proximity. The left-hand plate flickered between amber and green and he knew immediately that this was it. This was what he was searching for.

"Colonel? John? Are you there?"

Sheppard didn't respond to the worried voice, but reached out and placed his palm against the blinking surface. A slight ripple of energy seemed to pass through his hand, but just as quickly the sensation was gone and both touch plates glowed a steady green. John pulled his hand away from the device and stood staring at it in confusion before turning to take in his surroundings.

This room was familiar. He'd explored it that morning with Rodney, but he didn't recall why he was here now. He and McKay had returned to PX9-253 to investigate some 'very interesting energy readings', but hadn't found anything at all interesting at this location and had quickly moved on to other areas. Which returned John to his question: why had he come back to this place?

"Colonel Sheppard, please respond before I am forced to freak out due to the assumption that you are dead or unconscious somewhere, meaning that my eventual death is also imminent!"

Sheppard stopped pondering his current location at hearing Rodney's voice, a voice that clearly suggested its owner was already freaking out. "McKay? What's wrong?"

"Oh thank God!" The relief in the scientist's voice was quickly covered up by annoyance. "Are you finally speaking to me again, Colonel?"

"When was I not speaking to you, Rodney?"

"Just now…you said you were busy, trying to find something to help me, and then you weren't answering on the radio."

"I…don't remember that…"

"Are you okay, Sheppard? You sound a little weird."

John shook his head, still feeling a bit dazed, but whatever fog had been shrouding his brain seemed to be lifting. "Yeah, I'm fine. At least I think so. Remember that room we visited this morning, up in the ruins?"

"Yeah, there wasn't anything important there so we moved on. We split up to look elsewhere, which is exactly when all of my trouble started, mind you. Why?"

"I'm in that room now, and I just activated a piece of Ancient technology, but I can't remember why I decided to come back here."

"What's it do, the thing you activated?" Rodney asked, his curiosity causing him to momentarily forget his own worries.

"No clue, it's just a chunk of metal with a couple of glowing touch plates."

"Oh yeah, I saw that this morning. It lit up when I touched it, but I couldn't get it to do anything else. I took some scans of it to look through later."

Sheppard stood staring at the device and was beginning to feel very uneasy. "Well you may remember it, McKay, but I don't. Nor do I remember coming back up here…in fact, I'm not recalling much of anything since we left here this morning…did you ask me to come back?"

"No, why would I? That wasn't where the energy readings were coming from."

"Did I mention where I was going when we left earlier?"

"You were going to keep exploring in the hills, even though I told you it was a waste of time, and I was going to go make myself useful looking around those caves we saw, down past that cabin. We made our regular check-ins until my radio reception started breaking up a few hours ago, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so we just agreed to keep looking and meet back at the gate at sundown. You seriously have no memory of any of this?"

"I sort of remember talking to you on the radio…but nothing definite. You don't think it could be something to do with this thing I touched?"

"I have no idea, Colonel, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I have bigger problems at the moment."

"You have a bigger problem than my sudden inexplicable case of amnesia?" John asked in disbelief.

"Hello, that's generally what 'imminent death' indicates! I'm trapped in a lab in one of those caves, and from what I've been able to gather, I've got a little over eighty minutes before I'm going to suffocate. All the air is being sucked out of the room. Oh, and that hour and change that I have? That's only if I don't drown first! There's a stream somewhere that's running off into the caves from all the rain earlier, and the ceiling is leaking like a sieve. So yes, I'd say my problem ranks slightly above you not remembering which MRE you had for lunch. If it's not too much trouble, I would appreciate getting out of here before I have to start hallucinating certain blonde SGC officers to pass the time until my demise!"

"Okay, Rodney, just calm down. I'll get the Ancient device to go, and we can figure out why it's not letting me remember _the entire afternoon_ later." John's tone was annoyed but resigned as he picked up the metal object and slid it into his pack. He then reached into his pocket for his LSD, only to find it missing. "Crap."

"What? Don't say that. I seriously don't need to hear you say that right now, Colonel!" McKay whined.

John ignored him. "Do you have your LSD? Mine's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, as in not here. And it may not surprise you that I can't remember where it is so you're going to have to tell me where you're at, McKay."

"I believe I've already mentioned that I don't exactly know, but if you can get to the cave entrance nearest the cabin, I might be able to guide you here with my LSD so long as my radio keeps working."

"My thoughts exactly. Just hang tight. I'll be at the cave entrance in ten." John jogged out of the domed building, the wind muffling Rodney's grumbled reply.

**TBC…**


	2. Relatively Speaking

**Chapter 2 – Relatively Speaking**

Sheppard slipped and skidded his way down the rocky hillside, not able to see much in between the flashes of lightning. He ended up leaving some skin behind on the sharp stones as a result and ripped his tattered uniform further. The jarring manner of his descent also made John painfully aware of his bruised and scraped torso, injuries he'd apparently acquired earlier in the day, though of course he had no recollection of the events that had caused them. He breathed a sigh of relief when the slope finally gentled to more even ground and he slowed his pace, carrying himself gingerly until the aches subsided.

Despite the morning rainfall and intermittent downpours that had persisted through the thunderstorm, the water had already soaked in deep, leaving the top few inches of soil dry. Temperamental winds were taking full advantage of this, churning up the dust to cast a haze in the cool night air. John squinted through the murky darkness, eyes following his flashlight beam as he tried to make out the entrance to the caves, which was proving more difficult than it sounded.

Finally, he tapped his radio. "McKay, do you have me on the LSD yet? The wind has really picked up out here and I'm having a hard time locating the caves with all this dust."

"Negative, Colonel. You must not be close enough yet. Where are you?"

"I just passed the cabin a minute ago, and I'm on the path that goes along the lower cliff face."

Rodney sounded thoughtful as he answered, "Hmm…yes, you should be close…let me just make a few adjustments to the LSD," he paused for a moment, presumably tweaking some settings, "The cave entrance is short, low to the ground. You'll need to duck to get inside."

"Copy that." Sheppard moved off the path, closer to the rocks so he could hopefully see the caves more easily when he came to them. Three minutes later, he still had not located the opening and he had an odd feeling that he was going in the wrong direction. McKay usually knew what he was talking about though, so if he said it was here…

John kept moving forward, shining his light steadily on the base of the rock now. He'd taken about ten more steps when a sudden wave of pain coursed through the back of his neck and up through his temples, converging between his eyes and nearly dropping him. "Sonofa…" Sheppard staggered against the rock wall, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

"Colonel? What's wrong? What happened?" McKay demanded over the open radio channel, having heard the colonel's sudden curse fade into a soft groan.

"Nothing, just a headache…maybe I hit my head on something earlier," John said, trying to get his breathing under control. He slowly pushed himself away from the wall as the pain subsided a little. "Did you get the LSD working?"

"Give me a second…there! Got it. Uh, Sheppard, turn around. You've already gone past the entrance."

"Knew I should've gone with my gut," he muttered, turning back the way he'd come. "How far past it am I?"

"It can't be more than thirty meters or so." Rodney watched the dot that was Sheppard move on his screen for a few moments. "All right, you should be coming up on it anytime now, just hang a left when you see it…er, I guess a right in your case."

"Are you holding that thing upside down, McKay?" Sheppard asked, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck in an attempt to ease the stiffness that had settled there.

"Upside down is relative, Colonel."

"Is distance also relative? I'm still not seeing your cave."

"I said thirty meters _or so_, didn't I? It should be right there."

John swept his light back and forth, the beam eventually getting swallowed up by one of the shadows at the base of the wall. "All right, I think I found it. How far in are you?"

"I'm not sure, but it took me about twenty minutes to get here. There are a lot of twists and turns."

"As in, we could get lost in there if your LSD cuts out like your radio did earlier?" John asked warily.

He could almost see Rodney's grimace before the scientist answered him somewhat timidly, "That's a yes."

"Great."

"But I think it was just the storms messing with the radio."

"You haven't seen the weather out here recently have you?" Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Hang on. I've got some stuff I can use as a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Right. Good. Just be quick about it, will you?"

"Quick is my middle name," John replied dryly, pulling packages of glow sticks from his pack and then shoving the pack through the cave entrance ahead of him.

Thankfully, the path inside wasn't as cramped as the entryway itself. The cave ceiling was high enough that John could walk mostly upright, and it widened until it was roughly three feet across. As he shone his light ahead though, the colonel quickly saw what Rodney meant about the twists and turns. When he came to the first fork in the tunnel, he cracked a glow stick and placed it on the ground, marking his way back to the entrance. "Where to now?" he asked.

"Go to your left. That's where I'm at _relative_ to you."

"Funny, McKay. Too bad my only choices are straight ahead and right."

"Uh, try straight ahead, I'm fairly sure it turns to the left."

"I'm fairly sure I'd like you to be more certain."

"I'm certain I don't have an exact schematic of this cave available to me, Colonel, so you're just going to have to take what you can get, which in this case would be the leftmost path!"

"I'm going, McKay, I'm going. Keep your shirt on." Sheppard stepped into the tunnel that opened straight ahead, made sure the glow stick was visible in the other tunnel, and then kept moving. Sure enough, the way soon turned to the left. John followed it through the darkness, fingertips tracing along the cave wall for reference. The low-light was disorienting, and the strain of trying to see where he was going was beginning to amp up the throbbing behind his eyes. He pinched at the bridge of his nose again before looking up to see another tunnel division. "Okay, now my choices are right and far right. Are you sure the LSD's not upside down?"

"Yes, in fact I'm _certain_. The far right path is the one you want."

"Isn't that counterproductive since you're supposedly somewhere to my left?"

"Would you like me to leave you alone so you can wander around aimlessly in the dark? Because I could be focusing all my energy on trying to figure out why my oxygen supply is being depleted as I speak rather than helping you get here to help me!"

John resisted a groan as another surge of pain lanced through his neck and shoulders. They didn't have time to argue. He cracked another glow stick to mark the way and started down McKay's tunnel of choice. It wasn't long before his flashlight beam fell across something that really made his vision go haywire. "Uh, Rodney? When you said twists and turns, you failed to mention the giant crystalline honeycomb room…"

"Oh, you're there already? That's great, you're nearly halfway here. How many openings are there at the start again?"

Sheppard swung his light around, doing a quick count of the entrances to what appeared to be a labyrinth of narrow passages. "Seven, why?"

"Go in through the fifth opening and make only right turns."

"At the risk of wasting more of your oxygen, won't that either cause me to walk in circles or take me in the opposite direction from your location?"

Rodney gave a put-upon sigh. "Yes, normally it would, but the crystals distort the light. You'll only see the turns you need to make."

"And how did you figure this out?"

"Genius speaking! Just trust me. It wouldn't exactly be in my best interest to get you lost now would it?"

"Good point. Okay, only right turns. Here we go."

Sheppard stepped through the fifth hole in the tunnel and found himself surrounded by purple crystals. He directed his light at the floor. If he pointed it in any other direction, the crazy reflections made him dizzy. As it was, the crystals were picking up his light and glowing with an uncanny brightness, to the extent that he actually switched his light off once, thinking they were giving off their own illumination. Periodically, he would come to a rounded passage on his right or left. As Rodney had instructed, he only took the right turns.

After several minutes, however, John was very tempted to go left. He had always considered himself to have a good sense of direction, and right now that sense of direction was telling him that he was making zero progress. The glare from all the sparkly purple prisms was making his eyes water, and his conversation with McKay had recently degenerated into the scientist mumbling to himself. John sighed. "Rodney, am I getting any closer? Rodney!"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, sorry. Yes, you're closer than before. Keep going, you should be to the other side of the room soon."

"Won't I get there faster if I take a couple of left turns?" Sheppard had stopped moving and peered down the passage to the left, then the one to his right, trying to ascertain where each would lead him. He inhaled sharply as pain descended on him once again and this time he couldn't hold back a moan. The throbbing didn't seem to be localized in his head anymore either, and aches were spreading through his arms and hands.

"No, we've been through this. You need to go to the right," Rodney said, prepared for a snarky comeback. All he heard was heavy breathing and a quiet curse. He glanced at the LSD, and the dot indicating John's position wasn't moving. "Sheppard, what are you doing?" he demanded.

It took a moment before the colonel's strained voice answered, "Experiencing sudden-onset arthritis. Just what I need on top of amnesia."

"Oh." Rodney didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't a witchdoctor like Carson, not that he could do anything for the colonel under their present circumstances anyway. "Do you think it's related to the Ancient device you touched earlier?" The increased speed of McKay's delivery of the question was the only indication of his growing concern for Sheppard.

"I have no idea, that's why I asked you the very same thing earlier, but now I'm taking it as a sign and turning right."

"Well, obviously. That's what I told you to do in the first place."

John simply grunted and continued on. The headache was constant now, and his entire body from the waist up was decidedly achy. With his luck he was probably coming down with something.

"All right, I'm through the crystal room," Sheppard announced a short time later, taking a moment to enjoy the darkness that the lack of reflection provided.

"You have three choices again, correct?"

"Yep."

"Take the center one. It joins with the left tunnel about ten meters in, but there was apparently a cave-in that blocked the left path just past the entrance, otherwise you could go that way directly."

"Tell me something, McKay. Do I _ever_ get to directly take the path that actually goes to the left?"

"No, Colonel. This entire cave was designed specifically to vex you with its illogic."

"I thought as much." John continued to walk and he couldn't resist asking, "Rodney, are we there yet?"

McKay didn't bite. "You're very close, and you'll be glad to hear that you can actually take a left at the next intersection."

"Uh, Rodney, that's where I am. There's only one tunnel and it goes to the right," Sheppard said flatly.

"You've got to be kidding me! I clearly remember turning left there! You must—"

"Calm down, I am kidding." John laughed, even as another round of muscle aches and throbbing temples blindsided him, turning a chuckle into a gasp.

"Colonel, this would be a very bad time for you to choose to pass out. The water is already up to my ankles in here!"

"You're not going to drown…in a foot of water, McKay. Calm down." Sheppard panted, trying to breathe past the tendrils of fire currently charring his optic nerves.

"Sorry, I just don't like tight spaces…not that this is as bad as the Jumper at any rate, but still."

"What am I looking for here? A door, a hatch, an exit sign?" John asked, trying to stay on-topic.

"It's a large metal door set into the cave wall. There's a blinking control panel on it."

"Let me guess, it'll be on my left?"

"Your powers of deduction astound me, Colonel."

"McKay, I know of at least twenty people back on Atlantis that would be very pleased if you failed to return from this mission," Sheppard warned.

"Oh, ha ha. Just shut up and look for the door so we can go home and let Carson deal with your seven signs of aging."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with my skin!"

"It disturbs me somewhat that you even recognized the reference, Colonel."

"Likewise, _Meredith_."

"I can't help that my skin requires the occasional moisturizer! As such, I've inadvertently acquired…certain facts…from product labels."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. He could just see McKay crossing his arms and raising his chin in his classic 'you know I'm right so shut up about it' posture. A suitable comeback was still forming itself when John's wandering flashlight beam revealed a patch of steel grey instead of red-brown rock. Sure enough, green and yellow lights blinked at him from a panel located in the center of the door. "As much as I would love to continue this stimulating conversation, McKay, how about you tell me what I need to do to get you out of there instead."

"Well, unfortunately the control pad on the door is not of Ancient design and therefore it's doubtful that you prying it open by sheer force of your gene's will is going to work. But, I had to pull the panel apart to get in here in the first place, so I have a good idea of how it all works."

"Are you telling me that you found a way to enter the room but never bothered to find a way back out? I thought I taught you better than that." Sheppard didn't even try to keep the annoyance from his voice.

"To save time, I will refrain from mentioning some of your less-than-stellar plans, Colonel. Suffice it to say that I may have…overlooked…the possibility that there were overrides in place that would prevent me from unlocking the door from the inside when this room started trying to kill me!"

"Speaking of which, how are we doing for time?"

"I've got 40 minutes or so before the water becomes a problem given the approximate area of the room, present rate of flow, etc., etc., but as for the air…25…30 tops."

"Okay, that's not so bad. I can work with that," John said. He pried open the panel and his eyes widened as he surveyed the mess of circuitry before him. Cringing seemed like an appropriate response, so he responded appropriately. "On second thought, you'd better hope you have a photographic memory of every wire that's in here, McKay!"

"It's just a simple control system, Colonel. The trick is overriding the overrides, which I have already taken the liberty of figuring out how to do, I just wasn't able to actually do it from in here."

"Whatever. Just tell _me_ how to do it."

"Fine. You're going to need a knife…" Rodney began.

* * *

Halfway into their 30-minute window the door remained firmly sealed, and John was decidedly unhappy. He hissed as another exposed wire singed his fingertips, tossed his knife to the side unceremoniously, and slumped to the floor, back leaning against the door. "You said the _third_ blue wire, Rodney, so that's the one I grabbed. Would you like to guess what happened?"

"Wait…was it the third from the right or the third from the left?"

"Rodney!" John groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He was having a hard time seeing straight, which he attributed to the migraine. Sheppard believed the headache was sufficiently serious to be classified as such. The simple act of moving his eyes in their sockets caused his entire face to throb, and when a new spike of pain stabbed its way through his temple, most other parts of his body ached in sympathy, especially his joints. The pain had gotten exponentially worse in the last few minutes too, what with squinting to see tiny wires while balancing his light just so—providing enough illumination to work by without letting the beam or any reflection reach his eyes directly. All this made McKay's constant disagreement with his electrical repair techniques the proverbial straw that broke the colonel's back. Or skull in this case.

"You need to pay attention. When I say 'third' I am meaning third from the left, not third from wherever you happen to be at the moment…"

John wanted to pose a spiteful retort, he really did, but the throbbing inched upward in volume even further with the sound of McKay's dissenting voice. For several moments it was all he could do to breathe and keep his stomach from rebelling as his vision was painted over with sparkly auras, the brightness of which hurt in their own right. Eventually the pain eased and John found his voice, weak though it was. "Rodney, stop arguing with me. In fact, stop talking to me, I know how to finish. You're just making it worse."

The change in Sheppard's tone stopped McKay's intended reply cold. "I'm making what worse?" the scientist asked, in his seriously alarmed voice, the one he reserved for imminent apocalypses or when fearing for his own life.

John briefly wondered how bad he really sounded, and tried to exude strength he didn't feel as he continued, "The headache. I'm not joking about this, McKay…every time you disagree with me at all…the pain gets worse. Thought I was…imagining…but it's more than a coincidence."

"But…how?"

"Don't know. Time?"

"Eleven minutes. You need to hurry, Colonel. The air in here is getting thinner than you." There was a pause. "Sorry. Shutting up now."

John might have enjoyed Rodney's rare moment of remorse had he felt better, and if the end of McKay's sentence wouldn't have been punctuated by slight wheezing. When McKay didn't offer further complaints, worry spurred Sheppard back to his task. Several more minutes ticked by, not a word passing between the two men as the colonel pulled wires, twisted them, and otherwise followed McKay's previous instructions. He was one wire-connection away from disengaging the lock when the back of his wrist brushed an exposed wire. Cursing, he pulled his singed hand away, dropping the knife in the process. He was fumbling to pick it up when a choked scream sounded over his radio. "McKay, what's—aaaagghhh!!" John wasn't sure whose scream died first. He was in too much pain to care.

**TBC…**


	3. Hansel & Gretel vs Snakes & Penlights

**Chapter 3 – Hansel and Gretel vs. Snakes and Penlights**

John lay on the floor of the cave, eyes squeezed shut, clutching his lower leg with both hands. Slowly, it occurred to him that the fabric beneath his grip was intact. There wasn't the telltale wetness of a bleeding wound either, though he had vividly felt at least two sets of fangs sink into his flesh just after Rodney screamed. Oh, Lord. Rodney. "McKay!" Sheppard yelled into his radio, "Can you hear me?"

He waited five full seconds, and was about to repeat his query when he heard a soft groan, then Rodney's even fainter voice, "Man dying…but still here."

"What the hell happened, McKay? You screamed, and then something bit me…are you okay?"

"I _yelled_ a…manly yell…because…there were snakes…biting _me_! Need air…soon…" McKay gasped.

"Shit…hang on, Rodney. I'll have the door open in a second."

"Wait…room's full of water…"

"No time to worry about that now. Just get yourself near the door and I'll snag you on the way out."

"How very…reassuring." Sheppard could hear sloshing noises and a couple of groans as the scientist presumably moved toward the door, then, "Snag away, Colonel."

John rubbed at his leg once more and then did his best to ignore the discomfort as he struggled to his feet. Pain and lightheadedness fought him all the way, but he had to be standing if this was going to work. When his legs were as steady as they were going to get, he reached out and twisted together the last two wires. The door slid aside slowly, but a spurt of water still splashed him in the chest as he was stepping aside. Spurt turned rapidly to torrent beside him when the door opened wider, and John heard McKay let out a curse. Peering into the doorway, he caught sight of Rodney barreling toward him, carried along by the water, and reached out for his teammate. John realized his mistake a moment too late, for the rushing water was tugging at his legs even as he changed position and grabbed McKay. The force of the scientist's body slamming into his gave the torrent just enough power to wash them both away down the darkened passage.

* * *

Cool air brushed over McKay and he shivered. His clothes were still damp, and his leg felt like it was still being bitten, though that seemed unlikely because he could still move and breathe…but that was beside the point. Breathing was the point. Wait…that didn't make sense. How could breathing be beside the point _and_ the point? He sighed contentedly, and realized there was no point in considering it further. It was what it was, and it was all due to the air. The wonderful air, thick and full of oxygen, and all around him. He sighed again, the slight sound mingling with a quiet groan off to his left. Mildly curious, Rodney lazily turned his head and opened his eyes. "Hey, Sheppard," he said to the familiar form lying a few feet away. He received incoherent mumbling in return, but his memory suddenly came flooding back. What an apt description that was for the recollection, too, McKay thought sourly.

"Sheppard!" he called out again, rolling to his knees and waiting out a head-rush before crawling toward the prone colonel. "Hey, wake up!"

"M'wake…stop yelling…" John mumbled. He forced his eyes open just enough to glare at McKay, then quickly shaded them with his hands. It was obviously morning, and even though the sky was heavily overcast it was still tremendously bright and painful to his eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" McKay asked, noticing John's apparent discomfort.

"Just a headache," Sheppard said, but closed his eyes again, hands still blocking the dim light.

"Are you sure? You look like crap, and I'm the one with the snakebite!" McKay blurted.

"Obviously it wasn't a poisonous snake."

"Oh, sure, sound all disappointed! That's nice!"

John cringed and ground out, "Rodney. Stop. Yelling."

"I'm barely talking at a normal volume, Colonel," Rodney protested with a frown, but lowered his voice in the process. Then he stopped talking altogether, not really sure what to do next. He was worried about Sheppard, but the colonel seemed content to lay quietly with his hands over his eyes, so McKay decided to take the opportunity to check whatever damage the snakes had done. He rolled up his pant leg to his knee and peered at the four small puncture marks decorating his calf. Two were still bleeding slightly and his skin was red and swollen around them. Poking at the area only caused him to hiss in pain and he decided not to repeat the experiment. Rodney wrapped a field dressing around the injury instead and then unrolled his pants to their original position.

Another eight and a half minutes passed by and still Sheppard didn't move, other than to shift uncomfortably on the rocky soil. They were in some sort of arroyo and the ground was dry now, the water having moved on as quickly as it had come. Rodney made a mental note to ask one of the geologists for the specifics of flash floods when they got back to Atlantis, though he was certain he would be infinitely more terrified for the knowledge. Being swept out of a cave at breakneck speeds by a raging river, nearly drowning, and getting beaten to a pulp in the process by said cave's walls had never been his idea of a good time. Going home did, however, sound like an excellent idea, and—miracle of miracles—Rodney actually knew which direction they needed to go to get there. Looking down the ravine he could make out the white marble pillars that marked the way to the gate. "Hey, Sheppard."

"Mmmm…"

"Are you planning on sleeping all day? I'd really like to go see Beckett before my leg falls off from gangrene."

The colonel shifted again, and Rodney heard a low moan come from the other man, but he received no further response. "Hey! Sheppard!" he repeated, but this time Rodney shook John's shoulder, and got a louder moan for his efforts accompanied by the colonel trying to pull away from him. Sheppard's eyes were squeezed shut and his face was tense with pain.

McKay narrowed his eyes. "Headache my ass! What else is wrong with you?" he demanded. When it seemed like he was still going to be left having a one-sided conversation, McKay grabbed Sheppard's arm again.

"Don't! Hurts…"

The urgency in Sheppard's voice was enough to stop McKay from shaking him again, though his hand subconsciously remained on John's arm in an awkward gesture of comfort. "What hurts?" he asked.

"Everything…feels like arthritis and the flu combined." At the mention of flu, McKay snatched his hand away. This earned him a half-opened eye from John. "It's not the flu, Rodney, it just _feels_ that way."

"Then how can you be sure it's not?!"

"Because of that damned chunk of Ancient metal in my pack."

"Oh…okay. You may have a point. Can you remember anything yet?"

"No."

"Well, back to my original question then. Are you going to lie there all day, or can we go home now?"

"I'll vote for home. Do we know which direction that is?" Sheppard asked, managing to rouse himself enough that his eyes stayed open if he shaded them from the muted daylight. He slowly sat up, but by the time the motion-renewed throbbing in his skull eased he had only caught the tail end of Rodney's reply. Fortunately, McKay tended to save the best for last and John had tuned in for 'stargate, that way'. He looked where McKay was pointing, saw the pillars, and almost smiled as Rodney helped him to stand. "Thank goodness for breadcrumbs. Lead on, Hansel." John's comment produced an eye-roll from Rodney as they started toward the gate.

* * *

"Unscheduled off-world activation," the gate tech reported. "I'm receiving Dr. McKay's IDC."

"Open a channel," Elizabeth instructed. "Rodney, is everything all right? You're several hours overdue."

"So what else is new?" McKay groused. She heard him sigh, followed by, "Sorry. Everything's fine…well, mostly. Just have Carson meet us in the gate room."

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to sigh. She nodded to another tech to page the infirmary. "He's on his way. Is it John?"

"Yes, yes. I'll explain when we get there."

"Okay. The shield is down. You can come home."

A few moments later, McKay and Sheppard stepped through the gate. Elizabeth was waiting, and she frowned in concern at seeing them. Rodney's face was red and he was panting slightly, though she soon realized that was a result of him supporting his shaky and pale companion whilst trying to carry both of their packs. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, but the medical team chose that moment to arrive.

"Over here, Gretel. I called you a cab," McKay said, ignoring Elizabeth's questioning gaze and steering Sheppard across the room. They met the medical team halfway and Beckett took one of John's arms, helping Rodney lower the disoriented man onto the waiting gurney.

When Sheppard didn't so much as make a grunt of protest, instead curling up and pressing his hands over his eyes, Beckett finally asked the 64-thousand-dollar question, "Rodney, what happened ta the colonel?"

"He's got a raging headache, can't remember what he was doing for several hours, and says he's got the arthritic flu, and all this without even having a concussion!"

"What?" Beckett looked at Rodney like he thought McKay was the one suffering from the concussion.

The physicist glared back in annoyance and started again, "Bad headache, memory loss, aches and pains, but he didn't hit his head that I'm aware of."

Beckett nodded, turning his attention back to Sheppard. Despite Rodney's professional diagnosis, he carefully ran his hands through John's hair, feeling for bumps but finding no apparent injury. "Colonel, can ya open your eyes for me?"

"Lights are too bright…hurts," Sheppard mumbled, still protecting his eyes with his hands.

"Okay, I suppose we can wait a bit on that. Do ya know where ya are?"

"'lantis."

"Good. And what day it is?"

"Uhm…Wednesday?"

"Close, it's Tuesday. Are ya hurt anywhere else?" Beckett asked, noting scrapes and bruises as he did a quick exam, but nothing particularly serious.

"Don't think so." John shifted and groaned softly. "Everything aches though."

"All right. We're going ta move ya to the infirmary and see if we can figure out what's going on."

"Mmm," John acknowledged, unwilling to risk setting off the throbbing in his head again by saying more. So long as his hands were pressed to his eyes and he didn't move, he figured there was a chance that his head wouldn't explode. He felt someone spread a blanket over him and then the gurney was moving. The motion was dizzying with his eyes closed, but opening them wasn't an option.

Sheppard drifted in the spinning darkness, nearly dozing until the gurney hit an uneven spot in the floor and jostled him just enough to send another dagger of pain through his skull. He moaned and tried to shrink away from the agony, which he would have realized was a ridiculous attempt under any other circumstance.

"Easy, son. We'll be there soon," Carson said, patting John's shoulder gently. "In the meantime, we'll try not ta bump ya around anymore," he added, looking pointedly at the medic pushing the gurney.

The medic looked sheepish, and was about to offer an apology when Rodney exclaimed, "This doesn't make any sense!"

Beckett glanced over to where McKay was walking, or more accurately limping, on the other side of the gurney. The scientist had been so quiet since the gate room that Carson hadn't really paid him much attention until now. Anything that caused McKay to stop talking, or to not complain about an injury, was almost certainly of interest though. Beckett therefore risked asking, "What doesn't make sense?"

"_This_," McKay said, waving a rectangular chunk of metal at the doctor. "Sheppard insists that it's causing his current…issues…but I can't seem to get any useful information from it whatsoever."

"What is it?"

McKay shrugged. "No clue. Just another piece of Ancient junk that the colonel touched back on that planet."

"And why am I just now hearin' about this?" Beckett asked, frowning at Rodney.

"Hey, it's not like you have a voodoo potion that automatically cures him of his encounters with Ancient technology…though that would actually be very useful, why don't you work on inventing one?" McKay shot back. Carson opened his mouth to reply, but Rodney held up his scanner in lieu of a free hand. "My point is that it wouldn't have made a difference back in the gate room and now you know so I don't need a lecture."

"Fine, but I need ta know the details so I can help the colonel. What exactly happened out there?"

Rodney's recounting of their time on the planet, from exploring the ruins, to Sheppard's apparent fugue, to their dramatic exit from the cave, and the metal device's questionable role in all of it took the rest of the journey to the infirmary and then some. Carson had finished taking Sheppard's vitals and was ordering blood work when McKay concluded, "Honestly, I didn't even really think about it until we were out of the cave and he was doing his 'see no evil' impression! I touched this thing too, and I'm fine." He had set the device down on one of the beds and was running his scanner over it yet again.

"Your gene isn't as strong as his, Rodney. We've seen many occasions where Ancient technology affects ya differently than it does him." Carson paused in making notes on John's chart to really look at McKay. The scientist was intently focused on whatever diagnostic he was running, though he looked exhausted and was still favoring his right leg. "Rodney."

"Hmm." McKay didn't look up from what he was doing, and Beckett had the distinct impression that he was being ignored.

"Rodney," Beckett said, louder.

"Hmm? Yes, what did you say?"

"I want ya ta go see Megan for your post-check. Any number of things could be causin' the colonel's symptoms, but if it is that device it'll still be here when ya get back."

"Fine, just give me a few minutes to finish this first."

"Five minutes," Carson said with a note of warning, walking back over to Sheppard's bed where a nurse was just finishing taking a blood sample. "How're ya doing there, Colonel?"

"About the same," John answered quietly. Beckett had dimmed the lights enough that he'd finally been able to tolerate them without the added shade of his hands, but John still had no desire to tempt fate by opening his eyes. "Can I get something for the headache?"

Beckett frowned at that, and didn't even have to inquire about the pain level. Anytime Sheppard actually _asked_ for medication, he knew it was bad. "I'll make a deal with ya, Colonel. If you'll let me check your eyes I'll give ya something ta take the edge off, though I'm afraid it won't be anything more than Tylenol until I get your blood work back."

"No penlight," John refused with as much determination as he could muster, which wasn't much.

Carson patted his shoulder. "Sorry, those are my terms. I'll be quick."

"You suck," John muttered, with just enough humor in his voice to let the doc know he was kidding, and braced for the onslaught as Beckett slid back his eyelid. He wasn't disappointed. Light and pain were synonymous and searing, entering with blazing intensity through his pupils and flash-steaming his skull from the inside out. John may have cursed loudly and colorfully in his mind, but was pretty sure that whatever sound actually escaped was closer to an anguished sob. Not that he had it in him to care. The flames licking at his brain triggered an unpleasant feeling in his stomach, and suddenly hands were rolling him as he relinquished everything he'd eaten that day.

"Jeez, Carson! What are you doing to the man, exorcising a voodoo demon?" Rodney had looked up from his work when he heard a very uncharacteristic whimper come from Sheppard, and much to his horror had now witnessed the reappearance of the very MRE he'd teased the colonel about earlier.

Carson completely ignored Rodney as he and a nurse carefully supported John until the dry heaves had passed, then eased him back onto the bed. Rodney, for his part, actually put down his scanner and watched with worry as they proceeded to take another round of vitals. Carson didn't look happy, and John didn't move a muscle through the entire process, except for the slightest of nods to something Beckett asked him.

"Is he okay?" McKay questioned in a low voice.

Beckett jumped at the scientist's sudden appearance next to him and fixed McKay with an expression that said 'what do you think?' before turning to the nurse, "Let's get the colonel settled in the secondary ward. He needs it dark and quiet. Cold compresses for his head and neck, but otherwise keep him warm. He's bordering on shock, and I want a new set of vitals every fifteen minutes until he stabilizes." The nurse nodded and went to carry out the instructions while Beckett took Rodney's arm and led the scientist in the opposite direction.

"What's wrong with him?" McKay asked, still glancing over his shoulder at John as the nurse and one of the other medics prepared to move him.

"That's what I intend ta find out," Beckett said, directing Rodney to a bed and catching the attention of the dark-haired nurse working nearby. "Megan, love, please check on Dr. McKay, his right leg and O2 saturation in particular, and let me know if there are any problems."

"Yes, Doctor."

Giving Rodney a small smile of reassurance, Beckett headed back to check on Sheppard.

**TBC…**


	4. Night Watch

**Chapter 4 – Night Watch**

"Ow! I thought you said you'd done this before!" Rodney griped at Megan, who was carefully swabbing at the bite on his leg, after having alcohol-wiped and band-aided him to within an inch of his life for his other scrapes, not to mention nearly sucking him dry taking blood.

"Have you considered that maybe during all my practice I've learned to make it hurt if I want it to?" Megan smiled sweetly at the physicist, who glared back at her. She would never intentionally hurt a patient, but had been advised once by Carson that the best way to get Rodney to sit still was to make sure his mind was otherwise occupied. At first she had been at a loss for how to do that since physics wasn't really her forte, but had eventually tried the doctor's own tactic of verbal sparring. To her surprise, it worked. He was so caught up in his irate response that she had his leg neatly bandaged before he even paused to take a breath. "All done," she spoke up above his tirade.

"What, it isn't enough for you to torture me? You have to interrupt me too?" Rodney trailed off when he noticed that Megan had stepped back, her arms were folded across her chest, and her shoulders were shaking as she silently laughed. "Oh. You're finished."

"Yes, and despite your insistence to the contrary, your leg is still intact. Whatever bit you, it doesn't appear that it was venomous, but we'll run this by the lab to make sure. Your O2 levels are a little low, but also within acceptable range of normal. If Dr. Beckett is satisfied with these results, you'll be free to go." She smiled and turned away in search of the doctor.

"Wait! I'm going with you. You'll probably tell him I'm worse off than I am so you can come and murder me in my sleep tonight!" McKay finished dressing quickly, scooped up his various scanners from where he'd left them, and hurried after Megan. He caught up with her just as she reached the infirmary's small secondary ward.

Slowing his pace, Rodney followed her through the doorway and continued forward to approach the one occupied bed. John's still form was swathed in blankets, and cold cloths had been laid across his forehead, an ice pack beneath his neck. He was hooked up to an IV and several monitors, whose glowing displays had been carefully directed away. The eerie shadows their dim light cast on Sheppard's features made him seem even more pale if that was possible, and though his eyes remained closed the tension in his body caused McKay to doubt that he was actually asleep.

Still holding his armload of gadgets, the scientist stepped back to where Beckett was conversing in soft tones with Megan by the monitor displays. Carson scribbled something on a tablet, which he handed to her, and she left. Another of the nurses showed up just then and slipped past McKay, said something about a tox screen, to which Beckett looked both relieved and concerned, and then she too departed. "How is he?" Rodney asked after looking to see if there was need to dodge more nurses.

"Stable for the moment. He has the migraine of the century though, and I haven't been able ta pin down a definite cause." Carson shook his head. "At least now that his blood work is clear I can give the lad somethin' a bit stronger for the pain so he can get some rest." Withdrawing a syringe from his pocket, Beckett did just that. John didn't stir, and his features slowly relaxed as his breathing evened out into sleep. Nodding in approval, the physician turned back to McKay. "Ya can take the bed next ta the colonel's if ya want."

McKay tore his gaze away from Sheppard and frowned at Carson. "What? No, I have work to do. I'm fine. Your minion just told me as much five minutes ago!" he hissed.

"I'm not forcing ya ta stay, Rodney, but Colonel Sheppard's not going anywhere until tomorrow at the very earliest and I'll not have ya sittin' here all night in a chair with that leg the way it is."

Rodney's eyes suddenly widened and he began snapping his fingers. "My leg! Oh! I completely forgot! Carson, did you check Sheppard? He told me he was bitten too, but I was a little out of it at the time and didn't think of it again until now!"

"Keep your voice down, Rodney!" Carson scolded softly and shook his head at McKay's suddenly abashed expression. "There were snakes where the colonel was too?" he inquired, already moving toward the sleeping man.

"I don't know, but he sure yelled loud enough. Afterward there was all the water and then we were trying to get to the gate, and he never mentioned it again, though I suppose with the headache and all…"

"Did he say where he was bitten?"

McKay shrugged. "Could be his lower left leg. I think he was limping. It was a little hard to tell with all the staggering and stumbling." He noticed Beckett folding back Sheppard's blankets, "Wait! Aren't you afraid he'll wake up?"

Beckett snorted. "Not likely with the medication I just gave him."

"Oh…well, okay then." McKay waited somewhat impatiently while Carson pushed the loose scrub pants up past Sheppard's knee, carefully manipulating the colonel's leg until he could see the area in question. True to the doctor's prediction, John didn't even twitch at the disturbance.

"That's strange."

"What's strange?" Rodney dumped the pieces of technology he was carrying on the next bed and hurried to peer over Carson's shoulder.

"His leg's bruised and inflamed here, but the skin's not broken. The pattern looks like a snakebite, two in fact, but…"

"That's because it _is_ a snakebite," McKay interrupted, disbelief in his voice.

Beckett looked up to find Rodney staring at John's leg as if he'd seen a ghost. "What are ya talkin' about?"

"Don't you think it's just a little strange that I knew exactly where the bite was?"

"Ya were with him after it happened, and ya said yourself he was limping," Beckett shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Carson! It's _two snakebites_ that just happen to be in the exact same location on his leg as on mine."

"Your right leg was bitten. This is his left and since it didn't penetrate his skin, it's very unlikely that this is what made him ill, especially since you're not. It's just a coincidence, Rodney."

"No, no it's not." Rodney started pacing back and forth. "I was bitten, I saw the snakes in the water. There was no water outside the door, but he was bitten at the same time. His bite isn't really a bite…maybe it's something to do with it being his opposite leg, but why? He also said that my disagreeing with him made the headache worse…that damn Ancient device has to be the key…" McKay looked up and found Carson staring at him. "What? I'm just thinking out loud."

"Precisely why ya should find another place ta do so if it's going ta be a long process. If not, ya can stay here, but either way I want ya off that leg and not botherin' the colonel."

"I'm not bothering Sheppard!" Rodney protested, but he knew Carson's death-glare when he saw it and hastily amended, "Fine. Point taken." He quietly went over to the other bed, sat down, and once again started tinkering with the Ancient glowing metal thing. Beckett muttered something that Rodney was fairly sure wasn't polite or in English before walking away.

* * *

Carson returned to check on his patient a few hours later and found Rodney sprawled out on the bed next to John's, snoring. His tablet was tucked under one arm and various scanning equipment littered the space around him. The metal device from the planet rested on a nearby table, and Beckett left it alone. Shaking his head in mild amusement at the sight, he draped a blanket over the scientist before moving to Sheppard's bedside.

John slept on, oblivious to the vitals check, but as Carson was carefully straightening the IV line from where it had become tangled around Sheppard's wrist, a slight motion drew his attention. Beckett glanced down and saw two half-lidded eyes watching him. "Colonel?"

"Doc," John's sleepy voice acknowledged.

"Well that's an improvement right there," Carson said softly, smiling. "How are ya feeling, son?"

"Tired."

"Aye, that's from the medication. You've been asleep for the past five hours. Is the pain letting up at all?"

"It's better, but it's still there," he admitted, blinking heavily. The jackhammer chipping away at his skull had been replaced by a rubber mallet it seemed.

Beckett nodded and began preparing another syringe, "I'm not surprised."

"You're knocking me out again?" John asked, not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed, but his voice just sounded weary.

"This is specifically ta target your headache and shouldn't act as a sedative itself, but I expect that will be the end result, aye. The level of pain ya were experiencing is exhausting and a few more hours of sleep will do ya a world of good, lad."

"I think I might just have to agree with you on that," Sheppard mumbled, yawning. His eyelids descended again, and this time he let them. Less than a minute later he was asleep.

Carson turned to go after administering the medication and was startled to find McKay sitting on the other bed, watching worriedly and absently rubbing at his calf. "Rodney, what's wrong? Is your leg still bothering you?"

McKay ignored Beckett's questions and answered with one of his own, "He's doing better?"

"He's still pretty out of it, which is ta be expected, but he said the pain's eased up a bit. I'll need ta run a few tests in the morning ta make sure this headache was just an isolated incident, but if those come back clear and he's feeling better I should be able ta release him. What he needs most right now is sleep." Carson noticed that McKay didn't look at all relieved. "That's good news, Rodney," he added.

"Maybe, but if this is the reason Sheppard's feeling better, I wouldn't jump to any conclusions, Carson," McKay said, indicating the Ancient metal sitting on the table. The two glowing plates had dimmed and were now a sickly blue-grey color.

Carson looked where Rodney was pointing. "Perhaps the change indicates that it's shutting down?" he suggested.

"Again, maybe, but I still haven't come across anything that mentions what this thing is or what it does and it's not revealing a damn thing on its own, so even if it is shutting down that may not be a good thing."

"Colonel Sheppard might remember something more about what happened when he wakes up. Until then, we're just going ta have ta wait."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Rodney agreed, but didn't look happy about it. "I'm tired. I'm going back to sleep." He lay back down and tugged the blanket up over his shoulders, turning on his side so he could see both Sheppard and the device.

"Good night, Rodney."

"Night, Carson," McKay replied. He watched Sheppard sleep until his own eyelids grew heavy and slipped closed, never noticing the dim glow from the device fade to black.

**TBC…**


	5. Relapse

**Chapter 5 – Relapse**

John Sheppard awoke in darkness, though alertness was taking its sweet time coming. Everything was jumbled. He had a vague sense of déjà vu, but the location was wrong. He should've been in the cabin on PX9-253…right? John closed his eyes again, trying to let the free-floating images in his mind congeal into something that made sense. He remembered the cabin, Ancient ruins, pain, Rodney, a cave, snakes, more pain, wires, singed fingers, water, throbbing pain, blinding lights, the infirmary, Beckett, blinding pain…the recurring theme seemed to demand recognition as fact.

With some effort he pushed himself up on his elbows, but his muscles were lethargic and achy, and a heavy woozy feeling seemed eager to snatch consciousness away if he stayed in that position for long. Stealing a quick look around, John flopped bonelessly back onto the mattress with a sigh. That he was in the infirmary wasn't a surprise, not when most of his recent bits of recollection involved raging agony within his cranium, but he did wonder how bad off he'd been to warrant his own room. Well, mostly his own room. The bed next to his was empty now, but had obviously been slept in. Rodney? He vaguely remembered hearing the scientist's voice nearby on several occasions. Did that mean McKay was all right? Frustrated that he didn't remember more, John again contemplated getting up to find some answers. The problem was he knew he'd fall flat on his face if he tried. He was royally wiped and didn't realize he'd zoned out until Carson was suddenly standing next to his bed talking to him.

"Sorry, what?" Those were the most intelligent words John's mind could come up with at that moment, so he went with it.

"I asked how long you've been awake, but I think that answers my question," Beckett chuckled. "How's the headache?"

"Finally gone, but it feels like my brain's been replaced by cotton," John said, offering Beckett a tired smile.

"Well, I can assure ya that your brain is intact, no cotton ta be found. Since ya were still asleep I decided ta get the scan out of the way early. The results came back completely normal."

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

Carson sighed and nodded. "But that gives me no explanation as ta why ya were so ill last night. I'm beginnin' ta think McKay's right and that bloody chunk of metal you two brought back was the cause."

"Is Rodney okay?"

"Aye, he's fine. The snake that latched onto him wasn't venomous. Dr. Zelenka called him away ta check on some sort of generator malfunction otherwise he'd probably still be here trifling with your souvenir."

"Did he find anything out about what it does?"

"You'd have ta ask him for the specifics, but he seemed quite irritated that it powered itself down overnight and that he wasn't able ta activate it again."

"I don't think he should activate it again. Whatever that thing is, it's dangerous."

Carson frowned at the trepidation and insistence in Sheppard's voice. "Do ya remember anything more about what happened on the planet?"

John thought it over, slowly shaking his head. "No, not really. Everything just sort of runs together after yesterday morning. Mostly I remember that the headache kept getting worse as I was searching for Rodney, especially when we had differing opinions about something. Then the pain would multiply tenfold. McKay's been known to give me a headache on more than one occasion, Doc, but never like this."

"Yes, he mentioned something ta that effect earlier, about disagreement making your pain worse." Beckett looked thoughtful as he recalled more of the physicist's train of thought from the night before, "Do ya know how ya injured your leg?"

"If you're talking about the bite, I honestly have no idea. I didn't see any snakes where I was, and it wasn't bleeding afterward. I mentioned it to Rodney, but then just passed it off as a muscle cramp since it didn't really hurt as bad as the rest of my aches anyway."

"It certainly wasn't a cramp, Colonel, but I'm afraid I can't explain it much beyond that either. It _looks_ like a snake bite as ya say, but your skin wasn't broken."

Now it was John's turn to look thoughtful. Something about this wasn't adding up and it all had to do with that damn Ancient device. He needed to hash it over with Rodney. "When can I get out of here, Doc?" Sheppard asked as he sat up, trying his best to mask the lightheadedness that swept over him. He didn't do a very good job of it, judging from the way he continued listing forward past vertical. Beckett grasped his shoulders before he could topple completely and guided him back against the bed which, curiously, was now inclined.

"I want ya ta rest here for awhile yet. If you're a bit steadier after ya have some lunch and the headache stays away, we'll talk."

John gave a small nod of agreement, feeling too shaky to argue. "What about the Ancient device? Where is it?"

"Don't worry, it's currently under lock and key in my office, per Rodney's instructions. I'm sure he'll be back for it as soon as he's done with the generator issue."

"Good, I don't want anyone else touching that thing. Let me know when McKay gets back too, will you? I need to talk to him."

"I probably won't need ta inform ya of anything if I know Rodney."

John grinned. "Good point."

A short time later Carson excused himself to attend to other matters, and Sheppard lay staring at the ceiling and pondering the metal device. It worried him, especially since his memories of the previous afternoon hadn't yet surfaced, but Beckett didn't seem overly concerned by that so he tried to focus on something else. Out of sheer boredom, since it seemed he wasn't tired enough to sleep any longer, he settled on practicing prime/not prime by reciting the prime numbers in his head.

* * *

John would have never thought it possible, but his day only got worse a few hours later when Beckett released him from the infirmary. He was on light duty until the next morning and under orders to take it easy until then, and he'd intended to do some long-overdue, non-stressful paperwork after talking to Rodney. Unfortunately, the genius in question had still been off mending generators and so it seemed the paperwork would not be put off any longer.

Upon opening his office door, however, Sheppard's jaw dropped and he swore he could feel the migraine returning, along with a good case of fury toward his men. He generally wasn't much for stereotypical military punishments, or fury for that matter, but certain individuals were going to be doing a _lot_ of push-ups and extra KP, if not scrubbing down his entire office with toothbrushes when he found out who had done this. Pranks had been running rampant through the military body of Atlantis during the past several weeks, and apparently some wiseass had finally gotten brave (or stupid) enough to target his CO with the next phase of mischief. Still, this was taking it too far, especially after yesterday.

John stepped cautiously into the office and made his way to the locked cabinet behind his desk, treading carefully as if walking a minefield. He withdrew a small duffel from the cabinet along with his laptop and a few other items, which he stuffed inside the bag and zipped it closed. Slinging that over his shoulder, he grabbed his utility knife and an old Styrofoam coffee cup, grimacing in disgust as he slid the knife along the surface of the desk, scooping goo into the cup. John held the container gingerly in one hand while he stabbed his knife firmly into the object in the middle of the desk with the other. Hefting the knife and its contents like some kind of grotesque state fair meal-on-a-stick, John exited his office and headed straight for Elizabeth's.

The expedition leader looked up from her computer when Sheppard appeared in her doorway. She dispensed with the smile and greeting that had been on her lips when he glared and stepped up to her desk, dropping his knife and its skewered burden unceremoniously in front of her and placing a coffee cup next to it. "I need a new office. I'm choosing the rec room for today. Maybe I'll use the mess hall tomorrow."

Elizabeth raised both eyebrows at him. "Pardon me?"

"Carson says I'm supposed to take it easy, and since I'm sure that doesn't involve me raising my blood pressure by killing certain people under my command, I'm going to stick with my original plan of doing paperwork. However, since my damn office is completely coated in…what the hell is that anyway? Honey?" Sheppard's tone turned briefly curious and he peered into the cup cautiously, as if the contents might suddenly burst forth and attack him. Shaking his head, he looked back at Elizabeth, still glaring, "Anyway, that and the fact that there are rubber snakes all over my desk and floor means I need a new office until mine can be cleaned. Preferably by those responsible for its current state."

Weir directed a bemused frown at the goo-covered garden snake coiled like super-thick spaghetti around Sheppard's knife. "It's very life-like for a rubber snake," she observed, reaching out to poke at it with her pen.

"That's because this one's _real_!" he growled.

"Oh." Elizabeth pulled her pen back and suppressed a cringe, raising her eyes to John. She had rarely seen him this angry and on the occasions when she had, the Wraith, Caldwell, or someone from the IOA had usually been the cause. Behind the anger he looked worn out too, and no wonder. She was a little surprised Carson had let him go so soon since he'd been white as the sheets he was lying on and drugged into unconsciousness the night before when she'd stopped by the infirmary to see him. "All right, the rec room is yours for the rest of the day. Maybe I should send out a city-wide memo banning further practical jokes as well."

"I think that would be an excellent idea," John said, his annoyance slowly dissipating. He went to retrieve his knife from her desk, and succeeded, but the honey-glazed snake had stuck to some papers and remained behind on the desk. "Sorry," he said, giving her a sheepish grin.

She shook her head, a laugh escaping at the absurdity of the situation. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I think that was just your paycheck anyway."

"That's okay, I'll steal Rodney's. He owes me," Sheppard said, turning toward the door.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're feeling better...just stick to your plan and don't go killing anyone, okay?"

John gave her his best innocent look. "Military justice does not necessarily demand the traditional military solution."

Weir opened her mouth to comment, then shook her head. "You know what? I don't even want to know what you're planning."

"Good, 'cause I don't know yet myself. See you later, Elizabeth."

John left Weir's office and headed for the rec room at a leisurely pace. When he arrived he found a couple of the marines playing a video game. Still irritated about his office and therefore annoyed with the rest of his men in general, he kicked them out of the room without explanation, even though he knew they were likely not the ones responsible. Finally alone, Sheppard quickly took measures to ensure that he wouldn't be further interrupted and then sank into one of the sofas.

Three hours had passed by the time he put the finishing touches on his last overdue report and hit 'send'. All that remained of the paperwork now was to sign off on a folder full of miscellaneous leave and equipment request forms. Since the Daedalus wasn't due back for two weeks, those could wait. Besides, he was still sore from yesterday's activities and figured he'd earned a break.

Sheppard set his laptop on the low table nearby, tossed his radio beside it, and stretched out on the worn sofa. He rolled around for a moment, trying to find a position that put the least strain on his aching back and neck, then settled with a long sigh. What a day. John absently dimmed the lights to half with a thought and moments later he was asleep.

* * *

Carson Beckett was also having a nice quiet afternoon in his office doing paperwork, which included his final report on Colonel Sheppard's condition. Since scans and blood work had proved inconclusive, he had ruled John's illness as a severe migraine brought on by prolonged interaction with Ancient technology and officially returned the colonel to active duty, effective the next morning.

Quiet moments in Atlantis rarely lasted for long, though, and Carson instinctively felt this one grinding to a halt the moment he slid open his desk drawer and saw a bluish-grey glow coming from within. Tugging the drawer open the rest of the way, he confirmed his suspicion that the touch plates on Rodney's mystery machine were once again lit. He tapped his radio. "Beckett to McKay."

"Carson, can this wait? I'm up to my elbows in generator parts."

"You be the judge. That bloody chunk of metal ya left in my office is puttin' on a light show again."

"What did you do to it?" McKay demanded. "I thought I told you to leave it alone!"

"I haven't done a thing to it, Rodney. I was lookin' for something and noticed it was glowing."

"Oh. Well, I'm on the other side of the city right now, so it's going to have to wait until I get back. I shouldn't be terribly long, but let me know if it does anything else. What color are the lights?"

"Pale blue, same as last night."

"Hmm. Is Sheppard still okay?"

"I assume so, but I haven't talked ta him since early this afternoon. Is there a reason he wouldn't be?"

"No, no, he should be fine…I think. I'll take a look at it as soon as I can. McKay out."

Carson ran a hand through his hair and pushed the drawer closed again. Ancient technology made him nervous, and this piece was no exception. They knew so little about it, and Rodney's uncertainty had only served to fuel the worry itching at the back of his mind. He tried to go back to his paperwork, but ten minutes of scattered thinking later he sighed in frustration and tapped his radio, giving in to anxiety. "Beckett to Sheppard."

When no response was forthcoming, Carson debated calling again. If the colonel was asleep he didn't want to disturb him. Then again, he _had_ returned the man to light duty, so how likely was it that he was napping? "Beckett to Colonel Sheppard. Please respond." Again, nothing. "Beckett to Dr. Weir."

"This is Weir, go ahead Carson."

"Elizabeth, I'm tryin' ta reach Colonel Sheppard. Have ya seen him recently?"

"Not for a few hours. Is something wrong?"

"Probably not, I just wanted ta ask him something…would ya happen ta have an idea of where he is?"

"In the rec room I would imagine. Some of his men decided to do a little redecorating of his office and I told him he could work there for today."

"Thanks, love. I'll try him there. Beckett out."

Carson was already on the move, picking up his medical bag as he clicked off the radio. Call him paranoid, but two years in Atlantis had taught him to trust his hunches. It only took about five minutes to reach his destination, and he would have been there faster had he not forced himself to walk at a casual pace.

The door to the rec room was closed, and a sheet of paper was taped to it. Beckett stepped closer to see the handwritten sign which read:

**LT. COL. SHEPPARD'S ****NEW**** OFFICE**

If your name is not Elizabeth, Rodney,  
Carson, Teyla, or Ronon, and you are  
not in mortal danger

**GO AWAY!**

Or you will be.

"At least I'm on the short list," Carson chuckled, knocking on the door. Several seconds passed without a response, and Beckett's mirth edged toward concern. He swiped his hand over the door controls and stepped into the half-lit room. Shadows obscured the minute details of the space, but it was still light enough that he easily made out Sheppard's form on one of the sofas.

Somewhat relieved, Carson moved closer and noticed the colonel's laptop and a couple of file folders scattered on a table, along with his radio. _That explains why he didn't answer_, Beckett thought. It was obvious Sheppard was asleep, and the doctor considered slipping back out of the room and leaving him as such, but something was off. Carson had unfortunately observed the colonel during sleep often enough to know his habits, so he quickly recognized the subtle differences that were present now.

John was curled on his side, not sprawled on his back as he usually was while napping. One arm was pillowed beneath his head, he shifted uncomfortably now and again, and his shallow breathing was sporadically interrupted by low moans. Beckett would have been convinced the man was having a bad dream, except he'd witnessed that on several occasions as well. "Colonel?" he called softly, not wanting to startle Sheppard. "John, wake up." He reached out and gave the colonel's shoulder a gentle shake.

Beckett knew the instant John awoke because the room plunged into complete darkness. After several moments the lights came on again, slightly, but not to the level they'd been at. The illumination was just barely enough for Carson to see John pushing himself upright.

"Doc? What's going on?" Sheppard asked, his voice groggy, one hand reaching up to rub at his eyes, then his neck. "What time is it?"

"Early evening. I just wanted ta check in and see how ya were doing, Colonel. Would ya mind turnin' the lights back on?" Beckett kept the concern from his voice, though he knew what the colonel's sudden, almost subconscious dimming of the lights probably indicated. In fact, he was slightly surprised when Sheppard complied with his request, but then he noticed that John's eyes were still closed. "I take it the headache's back?"

Surprise caused Sheppard's eyelids to pop open, and Carson caught a brief glimpse of glassy hazel-green irises before the colonel winced and squeezed them closed again. "Maybe a little," he conceded. After all, his ATA gene had given him away so there was no point in lying about it. If John was being completely truthful, he felt like crap. The muscle aches were back along with the throbbing in his skull and he was starting to feel a little dizzy. "I thought sleep was supposed to get rid of this," he groused as he submitted to Carson taking his pulse.

"Under ordinary circumstances that may well be the case, Colonel, but I'm afraid this hardly falls under that category." Beckett let go of Sheppard's wrist, not liking the too-quick fluttering beneath his fingers, and continued to check blood pressure, finding it low.

"You mean because of the Ancient device," Sheppard stated.

"It's a good possibility."

"Wonderful. Does Rodney know what it is yet?"

"No, but he should be on his way soon ta take another look. Lean forward a bit so I can listen ta your lungs."

"What for? I've got a headache, Doc, not pneumonia."

Beckett sighed. "Colonel…"

"Fine, I'm leaning." Sheppard bent forward, burying his face in his hands while the stethoscope traveled over his back. Suddenly, pain was rocketing back and forth between his temples and he felt like he was falling. "Shit," he muttered, blindly grabbing for the coffee table in front of him as he pitched forward slightly. His fingers found purchase on the table at about the same moment that Beckett grabbed his arm. John squinted at the doctor in the dim light, since having a focal point seemed to ease the vertigo a little. "I'll take that shot that deactivates my ATA gene now," he joked weakly, feeling himself listing again, but he was too worn out to do anything about it.

"Aye, I bet ya would at that," Beckett murmured, taking advantage of John's sideward momentum to ease him back down onto the couch. He was helping the colonel swing his legs up when John suddenly grunted and jerked away from his touch, slowly curling onto his side, face scrunched in pain. "Colonel? What's wrong?"

"Sorry…hurts."

"What hurts? Tell me what's happening, son."

"Everything aches. Knees, back, arms…" John kneaded at the muscle of his left forearm with his opposite hand, trying unsuccessfully to ease the tension. "It was like this before, when we got back from the planet…thought the drugs had taken care of it though."

"They should have," Beckett agreed. "I think it's time we got ya back ta the infirmary, lad."

Sheppard winced as another muscle ache hit, but nodded and cautiously started to rise. "No ya don't," Carson scolded gently, his hand resting firm on John's shoulder until the man relented and lay back down. "Ya wouldn't make it five steps before I'd have ta send for a gurney anyway." John grumbled something in return, but Carson chose to ignore it. The colonel didn't look well at all and he figured Sheppard was within his rights to be a bit grumpy given his condition.

Beckett glanced away for a moment while he keyed his radio to call for a med team, and in doing so missed the look of utter shock that began to form on Sheppard's face. It wasn't until a pained groan coincided with John's right hand clamping tightly onto his wrist that Carson looked back. John's eyes were wide and panicked, and though the light was dim, the doctor could see why. Even if he could never hope to explain it. For a moment he too just stared as a jagged gash opened up, splitting the skin of Sheppard's left forearm from wrist to inner-elbow. Beckett suddenly found his shirt soaked with too much red and John's vice-like grip on his wrist slackened as the ashen colonel slipped rapidly toward unconsciousness.

**TBC…**


	6. Perception: The Proverbial Handbasket

**Chapter 6 – Perception: The Proverbial Handbasket**

Living in the Pegasus galaxy came with its fair share of bad days, even a good amount of really horrible days, but Carson had experienced few that had gone to hell as fast as this one. Those few had honed his ability to respond quickly to whatever situation presented itself, however, and for that much he was grateful.

Half a minute following the mini horror show starring Sheppard's arm splitting open like a sordid chrysalis—but without the damned bugs, thank all things holy—Beckett had a tourniquet fastened just above the colonel's elbow and was attempting to ascertain where the worst of the bleeding was coming from. The volume suggested with near certainty that an artery was involved, so that was where he chose to begin his search. He brought the lights up to full, which elicited a soft moan from John who was still hanging onto some measure of consciousness. "Sorry, son. The headache won't kill ya, but hypovolemic shock'll do it right quick if I don't stop this bleed," Carson apologized, retrieving several packages of gauze from his bag. He began packing the white pads over the wound, trying to mop up the excess blood with one hand while applying pressure as best he could with the other. By the time the med team arrived some three minutes later, Beckett had located the source—a small tear in the radial artery—and temporarily slowed the hemorrhaging, though one would never have guessed it judging from the mess that surrounded the two men. The med team was stunned at the sight since Carson hadn't sounded all that urgent when he'd paged them, but they quickly overcame their shock and hurried over.

Megan was the first to get a good look at John's arm, and also the first to get her voice working, "How in hell did that happen? I thought you said the colonel had another migraine!"

"He does," John rasped, cringing at her exclamation, and everyone but Carson focused immediately on the too-pale man, having thought him unconscious.

"If someone doesn't get me somethin' ta clamp this artery until we can get him back ta the infirmary that'll be the least of his problems," Beckett spoke up, and his people scrambled into action, producing the necessary tool. The tension in his voice was replaced by calm reassurance as he spoke to the colonel, "All right John, just like before. This isn't goin' ta feel very good, but it'll be over fast." After a quick glance to confirm the man hadn't passed out, Carson took Sheppard's silence as acknowledgement and went about his task in one smooth motion, sliding his fingers aside and pinching the clamp into place.

John's breathing hitched and he cried out weakly, arching off the couch just a little, but his body had no strength left to keep him there and the second the pain eased, he dropped back down. Someone was gently smoothing his hair back from his forehead, probably Megan, and he willed himself to relax when he realized he was shaking. He did feel cold, but that wasn't the only cause of the tremors. No, seeing his arm go all Alien-larva was definitely a contributing factor, though he would've probably been downright catatonic by now if some slimy extra-terrestrial had actually burst from his flesh. Without realizing it, John laid his good hand across his stomach protectively, concluding that he would have to get his Sigourney Weaver fix from _Ghostbusters_ in the future. He drew in another shaky breath, and started badly when a warm hand touched his injured arm, shifting its position slightly.

"Easy there, lad. It's all right, the bleeding's under control. Give me a moment ta get a dressing on here, then we'll be set ta go. You just relax and let us worry about the rest."

His hazy brain managed to focus enough on what Carson was saying to mumble an affirmative response, but that was as articulate as John got. The terror-induced adrenaline had worn off and he was feeling all kinds of lousy. His head and arm alternated throbbing, and the darkness was swimming around him to the extent that the added motion of being lifted onto the gurney hardly registered. Somewhere along the way an IV had been started, but what he was immeasurably grateful for were the warm blankets that were piled over him. In the back of his mind he remembered that feeling cold was a symptom of blood loss, but surely his arm couldn't have bled that much, could it? John found that in that moment he didn't have the capacity to care and he allowed consciousness to drift away.

* * *

Rodney entered the infirmary at full-tilt, Ronon and Teyla on either side of him. His voice was as frantic as his pace, spouting off about gaping wounds, ruptured arteries, gushing blood, and, of course, imminent death. His teammates were both gripping his shoulders, urging him to slow down. McKay almost obeyed, but then he spotted the flurry of medical personnel across the room, working over someone on a gurney as it was wheeled slowly in the general direction of the OR.

"Carson! Oh, thank God!" Rodney called out, but his voice was too breathless for the doctor to hear at his present distance. Realizing this, McKay veered off and hurried after the group, somehow slipping away from Ronon and Teyla only to be stopped at the doors to pre-op by Megan, who had been slightly behind the rest of the med team.

"Dr. McKay, you know you can't be back here," she said, gripping his arm both for balance and to get his attention as he nearly knocked her over in his attempt to push past.

"No, you don't understand! I'm bleeding to death here! I need Carson!" Rodney stepped a little to the side, trying to peer around Megan. He finally spotted Beckett amongst the crowd, but stopped cold when he recognized the spiky dark hair that belonged to the man lying on the gurney. "Is that Sheppard? What happened now?!" he demanded of Megan, his exaggerated act of whirling around hampered by her careful hold on his right arm. He paled a bit when he noticed that she was cautiously removing the rag that had been wrapped around it, but held still as she peered with concern at the nasty-looking gash beneath.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied. The wound was rather deep, and though it was bleeding enough to warrant attention, it was hardly a scratch compared to Colonel Sheppard's injury.

"Megan, love, if you'd scrub in I could use an extra set of hands," Carson said, poking his head out the door.

Beckett and Rodney noticed each other at about the same moment, but Rodney got the first word, as per usual, "What's going on? What happened to Sheppard?! And by the way, man bleeding to death!"

Megan rolled her eyes and looked at Carson apologetically. "I was going to hand him off to Kim, but I didn't get the chance."

Beckett was about to answer when he caught sight of McKay's arm. His eyes narrowed and he stepped out to take a look at the wound. The events of the past half hour were beginning to make sense. "Don't bother, love. This is going ta need a few stitches. We'll just fix him up alongside the colonel. I have a feeling he has a better explanation for John's injury than I do anyway."

"What?" McKay and Megan asked in unison, the disbelief in their voices matching Carson's own that he was even considering his current train of thought as plausible.

"The colonel has a wound similar ta yours on his left arm, Rodney. I'm sure that genius brain of yours is capable of coming ta the same conclusions I did," Carson said, somehow managing to both frown and raise his eyebrow at a still-dumbfounded McKay. "And sit down before ya fall down," he added, ushering the pale and agitated scientist into the room and nudging him toward a gurney near the curtained off area where Sheppard was being prepped for surgery.

McKay obediently sat, trying to make sense of what Carson had just told him. Why was he getting blamed for Sheppard's accident, whatever it was? He'd been out fixing the generators and minding his own business for once when he'd sliced his arm open on a loose piece of metal. He hadn't even spoken to John recently. In fact, the last he'd known the man had been sound asleep in the infirmary. Rodney's thoughts were interrupted when Megan again took hold of his arm and temporarily replaced his makeshift bandage with a clean towel. She helped him change into scrubs, and then he was being wheeled into the OR, irked that she wasn't driving faster. Sheppard had been taken into surgery several minutes before and McKay was eager to find out what was going on.

Unfortunately for his curiosity, he still didn't get to see much upon arriving in the surgical bay. His gurney was positioned too far from the table Sheppard was lying on to be of any use, and it was a moot point anyway since medical personnel constantly obscured his view of everything except the colonel's face. McKay decided that maybe this was a good thing, since seeing John's face was troublesome enough on its own. His skin was so pale it was almost grey, and if not for the steady though somewhat rapid beeping of the cardiac monitor, the scientist would have sworn he was dead.

Sheppard was receiving oxygen via nasal canula, which further disproved the dead theory and also suggested that the colonel wasn't under general anesthesia. But what had actually _happened_ to him? All Rodney heard coming from across the room was a slew of medical voodoo spell-casting, and that was getting him exactly nowhere. "You know, it would be considerably easier to think if you would kindly stop stabbing my already grievously injured appendage," he grumbled at Megan, who had taken a seat beside the gurney after making him lie flat, and was now slowly circling his wound with a syringe.

"Well, if you'd like I can skip the lidocaine and go straight for the needle and thread."

"No, go ahead and finish," Rodney said sullenly, and turned his head to the side to continue studying Sheppard's unconscious form, but only a few seconds ticked by before he looked back to the nurse, eyes wide. "You were part of the team that brought Sheppard in, weren't you? You know what happened."

Megan set down her syringe and looked back at him hesitantly.

"You do! Well, come on, out with it, I don't have all day." McKay snapped his fingers impatiently.

"There is a thing called patient confidentiality, Dr. McKay," she hedged.

"Come on. If it was that embarrassing or classified, he'd be having a private sewing. All bad puns intended. Besides, Carson already told me the basics. I just need a few details so I can put it all together and figure out why he's blaming _me_!"

Megan sighed and spoke quietly, "He's not blaming you, Rodney, he's just worried about the colonel and trying to figure out what happened. John has a deep laceration running the length of his forearm, and from Carson's account it just appeared suddenly without explanation. It gave me the willies seeing it afterward, so I can only imagine what the two of them thought when it happened. Whatever the cause, an artery was nicked and Colonel Sheppard lost some blood, which probably didn't do his migraine any favors, but the situation was mostly under control by the time I arrived with the med team," she trailed off, noticing the stricken look on Rodney's face as he stared across at Sheppard. "Hey, it's okay," she squeezed his shoulder. "John's going to be fine, he just needs some rest."

McKay didn't hear Megan's reassurances. Knowing about Sheppard's spontaneously-occurring injury and the nicked artery, along with Beckett's insistence that he should have some idea of what was going on made Rodney suddenly realize that he _did_ know. "Oh my God, Carson's right! I did this to him!" the scientist squeaked, shooting upright and swinging his legs over the edge of the gurney, abruptly swaying as a head-rush overtook him.

"Rodney!" Megan managed to grab him before he fell, and somehow got him mostly back onto the gurney, but by the time she did his eyes had slid closed and his entire body had gone limp. Her exclamation had garnered the attention of the others, and another nurse was headed her way.

"What's wrong, love?" Beckett asked, looking up from his work.

"I think Dr. McKay agrees with whatever conclusion you came to earlier, except he seems to think the colonel's injury is his fault. He sat up too quickly and fainted," Megan explained.

"How are his vitals?"

"Normal, considering the circumstances," she reported after a few moments.

"Good. I suggest ya finish up with his arm before he wakes then."

"And you're going to deal with him after that?" Megan asked hopefully, giving Beckett her best puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm well familiar with that look from the colonel, love. Tell me, why do ya think it'll work any better for you?"

"Because I bring you coffee before you even realize you want it."

Beckett chuckled. "I suppose there is that. If ya can finish before Rodney wakes up, I'll take it from there."

Megan grinned and went back to work.

* * *

Rodney awoke, as he had that morning, in the darkened secondary ward of the infirmary. Sheppard was also there, unconscious or asleep, and for a moment McKay wondered if it was, in fact, just now morning. It was possible he had dreamt the entire generator malfunction and related events. Raising his arm to check the time, he hissed as an IV pinched the back of his hand. Squinting at the bags hanging above him, he recognized one as antibiotics. A quick glance at the bandages on his other arm confirmed it. "Great. Only my crappy dreams come true. Never the ones about Colonel Carter and I vacationing in Tahiti," McKay grumbled quietly.

"What was that, Rodney?" Carson asked, entering the room.

"I said you should go vacation in Haiti. The witchdoctors there can make all your voodoo dreams come true," McKay said, but his sarcasm fell rather flat, and he didn't even bother trying to come up with a sheep joke as a follow-on. Instead, his eyes drifted back to Sheppard's bed. Carson noticed.

"What happened ta the colonel isn't your fault, Rodney. I apologize if that's what ya thought I was sayin' before."

"Why shouldn't you say what's the truth? I did this to him, me and my pessimism," Rodney snapped.

"How so? And what does pessimism have ta do with anything?" Beckett asked curiously.

"Well, I mean I don't exactly have proof yet. But when Megan told me how Sheppard's injury happened, it dawned on me that it was a little too coincidental, especially considering our matching snakebites. I just made this particular injury a whole lot worse for him."

"Perhaps we didn't come ta the same conclusion after all. What makes ya think that ya made it worse?"

"You know how I tend to freak out a little when I see blood, especially my own? Don't answer that," McKay said with a glare, seeing Carson's grin. "Well, anyway, that's kinda what happened earlier. I cut my arm, it was bleeding a lot, and I jumped to the worst-case scenario, namely that I'd severed an artery. Point being that I perceived the injury as much worse than it was, and what happened to Sheppard is a direct result of that. I think that it's all about perception. When I was bitten by the snakes, I didn't see them because they were underwater and I was preoccupied with trying to breathe, so I didn't spend much time trying to figure out what had happened. Sheppard had the bite marks too, on his other leg, but they weren't very bad and I doubt there were even any snakes where he was."

"So ya think that the Ancient device is causin' your injuries to physically manifest themselves in Colonel Sheppard?"

"Yes, but only to the severity that I perceive them."

"Ya may be onto something there, but I'm not sure it stops at just injuries. My first assumption was that his headache was brought on solely from interaction with the Ancient device, but the colonel said that it got worse when the two of ya disagreed on something. Your theory of perception having an effect would fit there too."

Rodney nodded and was considering the implications, but before he could reply a raspy voice beat him to it, "You heard the man…quit perceiving…stuff."

Carson turned toward John, and Rodney pushed himself up on one elbow to see the colonel blinking eyes that were open the merest of slits. "Sheppard?"

John turned his head to look in the direction of Rodney's voice, but winced when the motion sent painful torrents racing through his neck and head. "Dammit," he groaned softly, triggering a coughing fit due to his throat suddenly feeling as though it was full of sand, which in turn ramped up the throbbing and dislodged his injured arm from atop its mound of pillows, adding more fuel to the mass of pain that was his body. He felt the bed being raised slightly and let his eyes slide closed as Beckett slipped him a few ice chips, the cool moisture quickly putting and end to the coughs.

"Is your arm botherin' ya?" Carson asked as he gently placed Sheppard's limb back up on the pillows and checked the bandage. "We had it pretty well numbed up, but you've been out for awhile now."

"Nah, damn headache," John mumbled.

Carson nodded. "Just lie still. I'll get ya somethin' more for the pain."

Sheppard felt too drained to do anything but. Even so, he wasn't ready to succumb to happy drugged unconsciousness just yet. "Wait," he managed, and somehow coerced his eyes to open again. "What happened? Heard you guys talking…something about perception and…snakebites?"

Beckett acknowledged him with a nod, but continued across the room and began preparing the meds which he'd apparently kept nearby. McKay took that as his cue to respond, "Yep. That device we brought back, it's projecting my perceptions of various things onto you. Injuries, obviously, but maybe other stuff too."

John was somewhat startled when McKay suddenly appeared next to the bed, followed quickly by Carson, and the physician didn't seem pleased. "Rodney…" Beckett began, a warning in his tone.

"Oh, can it, Carson. I passed out over two hours ago. I'm fine. And your Haitian Voodoo Juice is still flowing, see?" He held up his IV-adorned hand, as if the bags hanging on the pole next to him weren't proof enough.

Beckett shook his head and turned his attention back to Sheppard, who was making a valiant effort to focus bleary eyes on Rodney. "So _you're_ the reason I can't watch Alien anymore?" the colonel asked.

"I'm not exactly sure what Alien has to do with it, nor why everyone keeps blaming me because obviously I had no conscious control over any of this," Rodney complained, lowering his voice when John cringed, "but…um…maybe?"

"In that case, your copy of Ghostbusters is now mine. Next topic: explain this perception stuff. Have you done any more searching of the Ancient database yet to see what that device is?"

"First of all, you are _not_ stealing Ghostbusters, but yes, I mentioned it to Radek, though I doubt he's gotten very far with the search because of the whole generator mess. This theory of projecting perceptions does give me a much better idea of the device's functionality though, so that information should help narrow the search. Meanwhile, I'm going to run some more diagnostics on the mystery metal."

"Why don't you just shut it down and toss it back through the gate instead? Carson said you turned it off once before, and I don't much give a crap what it does so long as when it's gone the axe that's currently splitting my skull open goes with it."

McKay shook his head. "No, no. You misunderstood. It shut _itself_ down once. For all I know the thing's malfunctioning. It's back on now, but the lights are still pale blue, not green like they were to start. Point being, I have no idea what any of it means, nor any way to repeat the process."

"Simple. You give it to me, and I think 'off' really, really loudly," John said, massaging his temples with his good hand. Rodney looked thoughtful.

Carson objected. "Not bloody likely."

"Why not?" the other men chorused. McKay sounded typically affronted and Sheppard tried to come off indignant but only achieved indifference, now rubbing at his eyes and looking generally miserable.

Beckett glared at both of them, but his frustration was directed mainly at Rodney. "Are ya daft, man? The colonel's been sick for the last couple of days and just woke up from surgery, so I can understand why he might not fully grasp the danger of what he's suggesting, but you ought ta know better, especially with what happened this evening!"

"But, it's just that…he might actually…I mean, with his gene...he could possibly…oh, never mind. You're probably right," McKay said with a sigh.

"I've never tried shutting it down though. It might work," John persisted.

"Yeah, and then again it might leave you brain-damaged…well, more than usual at least," Rodney retorted, now siding with Carson it seemed. "Besides, my diagnostics wouldn't produce accurate data if you powered it down."

Sheppard groaned and Rodney continued rambling on about the knowledge that could be gained from the device, etc., so it was Carson who first noticed that the colonel hadn't just made the sound out of irritation. John was gripping the side of his head, fingers twisted into his hair, and he had gone stark white, his eyes squeezed shut. His heart was racing according to the monitors. "Colonel?"

"Rodney, stop…disagreeing…" John gasped.

McKay's mouth snapped closed, his teeth making an audible click, as if he just realized that he'd been arguing against shutting down the device, and what that implied since John had wanted to shut it down. When Beckett met his alarmed gaze, Rodney's harsh whisper demanded, "Fix him!" The scientist then turned and hurried from the room, being amazingly silent in hurrying the IV pole with him.

Beckett let him go. He had more immediate concerns. John's heart was beating too fast, and the man was panting as if he wasn't getting enough air. The doctor reached over and turned up the oxygen flow on Sheppard's canula. "John, are ya with me?"

"Mmm…" It was more a moan than an affirmative response.

"Your headache's worse I take it?"

"Y-yeah...Rodney disagreeing…bad…" his breath hitched again and he felt Carson's stethoscope on his chest.

"Scale of one ta ten?"

"Fifty." John inhaled sharply and bit back a whimper.

"Bloody Ancients," Beckett muttered under his breath as he quickly pushed the syringe of medication he'd almost forgotten he was holding. He took one of the cloths that the nurses had left on the bedside table, soaked it in a basin of cool water, and placed it on John's forehead, knowing it was a small comfort at this point, but needing to do something other than stand by and watch his friend suffer. "Deep breaths, son. Slow and steady. The meds should help shortly, but if they don't I've got somethin' stronger we can try. We'll get ya through this."

Sheppard didn't respond, but gradually, and much too slowly for Beckett's liking, his heart rate began to descend and he relaxed a little, though his breathing remained ragged despite his best efforts and the oxygen. Carson pursed his lips in concern. The injection had obviously helped some, but it wasn't nearly enough. "Looks like you're going ta get the good stuff tonight after all, Colonel."

"Finally seein' things…my way," John mumbled, the faintest of smiles twitching at the corner of his mouth, then fading into a grimace.

"Aye, well, I'd thank ya for findin' a less-dramatic sales pitch next time, lad."

"Count on it."

"Will ya be all right here for a bit while I go get what I need?"

"M'fine."

Carson let out a sigh at how untrue that was, but gave John's shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning toward the door. He arrived in the main part of the infirmary to find Rodney, Ronon, Teyla, and Megan crowded around one of the beds. Not surprisingly, the object of interest in their midst was the Ancient metal device. Despite having been asleep in the infirmary for the past few hours, Rodney had already acquired several scanners and was waving one of them about while snapping at someone over the radio. Megan was staring at the device with curiosity, Ronon looked bored, and Teyla smiled up at him, though her expression quickly sobered when her eyes met his. "Is something wrong, Dr. Beckett?"

Her words landed all eyes on him except Rodney's. McKay currently had his back to Carson, but he stopped ranting mid-sentence and tapped off his radio, a sure sign he was paying attention. "What did I do to him this time?" the scientist asked stiffly.

Carson sighed again, "Rodney, there's still no proof that ya had anything ta do with any of this."

"Yeah, well, there will be soon enough because I'm leaving to go find some!" Rodney spun around angrily, facing the others and clawing at the tape on the back of his hand.

"McKay," Ronon rumbled, his tone warning Rodney to calm down. It didn't work.

"WHAT?" The proverbial pin could have been heard dropping in the silence that followed his shout, and sudden self-consciousness agitated McKay's movements further, causing him to fumble with the tape on the IV and leave red marks on his skin where his nails dug in.

"Take it easy, you're going ta hurt yourself," Beckett scolded, taking Rodney's wrist and carefully peeling off the adhesive.

McKay bolted as soon as the needle was out, barely giving Beckett a chance to press a band-aid in place. Ronon stared after him, then back at the others. "What the hell was that all about?"

"How much do the two of ya know about what's been happening ta the colonel?"

"Not a great deal. Ronon and I had just returned from trading with the Zarians on P3X-558 when we encountered Rodney. He seemed upset about his injury, so we accompanied him here, which is when we learned that Colonel Sheppard had also been injured," Teyla explained.

Carson nodded. "Well, ta make a long story short, Rodney is worried that he may have caused the colonel's injury. It's not directly his fault, it's that bloody thing right there," he gestured to where Rodney had left the piece of technology in his haste, "but there may be some truth ta his theory. At any rate, it's the only explanation I have for the severe migraine the colonel's had for the past two days."

"So that thing's making McKay hurt Sheppard?" Ronon asked as he glared almost accusingly at the device.

"It's projecting Rodney's perception of his injuries onto John, aye."

"Not for long it's not," Ronon stated, drawing his blaster.

Megan jumped back a little in surprise and Carson directed a glare at Ronon that would've instantly frozen boiling water. "Put that bloody gun away, I'll not have ya firing weapons in my infirmary! And anyway, ya can't just destroy the thing!"

Dex looked a little disappointed. "Why not?"

"Because we don't know enough about what it does. Shootin' it, or walking in there and pulling the trigger on the colonel—ya might get the exact same result."

Ronon conceded the point by shoving his blaster back into its holster and remaining silent.

"How is Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla asked. "I had not realized this device was such a large factor in his condition."

"He's not well, I'm afraid." Beckett made his way across the room toward the medicine lock-up as he talked, motioning for the others to follow. "The minor injuries and migraine he presented with when returning from that planet left him exhausted, add ta that the blood loss and pain from the further injury ta his arm and now the headache having another go at him…" the doctor shook his head. "Normally I would be hesitant ta prescribe morphine for a migraine, but the sumatriptan's not doing the trick this time around and he's gettin' weaker. I have ta get his pain level down."

Teyla put a hand on Carson's shoulder. "I am sure the colonel trusts your judgment as we do and is grateful for your efforts. I only wish there was something more Ronon and I could do to help John."

"Thank ya for that, lass. Actually, there is somethin' ya could do."

"What?" Ronon asked.

"Keep an eye on Rodney for me. Time is beginning ta be a factor in finding a solution for this, but I don't need him dropping over from low blood sugar or lack of sleep either."

"We'll watch him, Doc. Go take care of Sheppard."

"Aye." Beckett offered Ronon and Teyla a small smile before taking his leave. Megan had already gone ahead to check on John.

"Suppose McKay's strangled Zelenka yet?" Ronon commented with a grin as he and Teyla started from the infirmary.

"Do you favor that possibility?" Teyla asked, raising an eyebrow at her teammate.

The Satedan shrugged. He hadn't really considered it too much.

Teyla seemed thoughtful, and after a moment said, "If he has not, I fear Dr. Zelenka may be in need of a cure for his own headache."

"Or he'll be the one doing the strangling."

"Perhaps we should not delay in locating them."

Ronon nodded, but couldn't help but smirk at the image of Zelenka's hands wrapped around McKay's throat. "I think you're right."

**TBC…**


	7. Interrupted Ideas

**Chapter 7 – Interrupted Ideas**

Rodney was very good at avoiding people when he wanted to and especially good at it when he didn't realize he was avoiding anyone at all. He didn't encounter Teyla or Ronon on his way to the labs or on his way back to the infirmary just a few minutes later. Nor did he run into them upon returning to the labs to collect Radek, Ancient metal nuisance now in tow. Since he and Zelenka were going to be running an extensive search of the Ancient database, they relocated to a room housing one of the Ancient terminals to speed up their task. The room also proved to be a good hiding place.

That his teammates didn't find him much later in the small hours of the morning was a minor miracle, what with Ronon's uncanny tracking skills. Rodney had passed within ten feet of the runner and Teyla on his way to the mess hall, but their backs were to him as they moved away down another corridor, and for once in his life McKay wasn't saying a word. The database had both answered important questions and posed new ones, but ultimately he wished he would've remained ignorant.

Typically-cold-3 a.m.-coffee in hand, a silent and very despondent Rodney McKay crept back into the infirmary carrying his laptop. The Ancient device was in the laptop bag slung over his shoulder because, quite frankly, he was tired of looking at the damned thing. McKay sank down into the chair beside John's bed with a soft sigh. The colonel didn't look much different than before: still pale, still on oxygen, but at least he appeared relaxed now that he was sleeping. It seemed Carson had done his level best once again to fix the man, but Rodney was deeply regretful that this time Beckett would ultimately fail.

McKay had worried about this day ever since arriving in Pegasus because he'd always suspected it would come, just not like this—at the hands of a chunk of Ancient alloy—when the galaxy was full of space vampires, iratus bugs, Genii, and various other untoward creatures. That this device could take down as strong a man as Sheppard, and do nothing to McKay himself even though McKay was the weaker mind according to the database—he, Dr. Rodney McKay, genius extraordinaire, was the weaker mind!—it was unthinkable. It was ludicrous, but it didn't change the fact one bit that there wasn't a cure for what Sheppard was going through. Well, not exactly a cure.

Boundless frustration had Rodney clawing at his scalp as he drug his fingers through his hair. Another sigh escaped. He had the facts now, and an idea that would probably work if he was allowed to implement it, but that was a big if, so what was he supposed to do in the meantime? Sit here and watch John's condition deteriorate, partially due to his very own thoughts—perceptions—whatever? Rodney was a scientist for goodness sake, he _liked_ to think. It was what he did. And now he was just supposed to stop? No, he had to stop. John had all but begged him to a few hours ago while practically writhing in pain. The nausea rising in Rodney's stomach stilled his mind for just a moment and he swallowed hard. In the end he knew there would be no choice, for the database had offered him just the one possible solution. He gagged, and found himself grabbing for the basin on Sheppard's bedside table, bringing up the battery-acid coffee and powerbar that had served as his dinner. He was still dry-heaving when he heard Sheppard's tired voice, "Now what am I supposed to use?"

McKay looked up, still clutching the basin tightly, and saw John staring at him worriedly. Suddenly Rodney had a bad feeling that the worry and the green look on Sheppard's face went hand-in-hand. "Seriously?" McKay whined, even as he got shakily to his feet and located a second basin, thrusting it under the colonel's chin just in time. Thankfully John managed to sit up a little and hold the container himself because the sound of his stomach rebelling caused Rodney's to go for another round, even though there was nothing much left. And then to top it all off, since misery loved company of course they got some.

"Well what's this then?" Beckett asked from the doorway, frowning at the sight before him.

John and Rodney were hunched over their respective bowls, and both men groaned in response. Sheppard continued heaving, but McKay managed to find his voice, "This is a private party, Carson. Go away." He groaned again, clutching at his sore stomach.

"Now, now, no reason ta get testy," Beckett commented, going to John first and taking the basin from him when he was through. He helped the exhausted man lay back against the pillows and took a glance at the monitor readouts before continuing over to Rodney. "The colonel's got a lot of medication running through his system, so I'm not surprised his stomach's a bit off. What's got ya imitatin' him?" he questioned.

"Sympathy pains," Rodney said sarcastically, then gulped as his stomach did another flip. Carson took advantage of his preoccupation and stuck a thermometer in his ear. "I'm not sick," Rodney insisted, even though he felt like he would be again at any second.

The thermometer beeped. Beckett looked skeptical, and raised an eyebrow in mild surprise when he saw the display, "Well, your temp agrees with ya at least. Are ya still nauseous?"

"No, Carson, I'm magically better three seconds after forcibly ejecting my stomach lining." McKay rolled his eyes. "That's what I get for drinking the coffee after 1 a.m."

"Did you and Zelenka find anything in the database?" John asked, having recovered from his episode enough to notice McKay's computer equipment nearby.

"Oh yeah, we found a whole encyclopedia of information on this thing," Rodney gestured to the case containing the Ancient device and then shrugged dejectedly. "Unfortunately it is by no means complete and provided not one iota of good news. And it directly insulted me."

"I didn't know your name appeared in the Ancient texts, Rodney."

"Funny."

"Just trying to lighten the mood a little," John shrugged, frowning at the physicist. Rodney stared back at him, face nearly expressionless, and Sheppard began to worry. This was overdoing it in the somber department, even for McKay. He usually went more for frantic or irate when something was bothering him. "Okay, I'll bite. _How_ did the Ancient database insult you?"

"It called my mind weak! Can you believe it? Me, the weak one, just because that device detected your magic gene!"

"Well being the strong one's not all it's cracked up to be from where I'm sitting, McKay, believe me. You should count yourself lucky."

"Lucky?!" Rodney paled visibly. "You won't think so as soon as I tell you what the cure is!"

"So there's a way ta stop what's happenin' ta the colonel?" Beckett asked hopefully.

McKay paled further and actually swayed in his chair, but managed to grab onto the bedside table in time to steady himself.

"Rodney?"

"No, no, no, this is all so wrong," McKay mumbled, still gripping the table. He flinched when a hand touched his shoulder and looked up to see Carson studying him with concern. Even Sheppard was staring at him now. Why was it so hot in here?

"Rodney, look at me, lad."

Rodney tried to focus on Carson, but everything was blurry.

"It's all right, ya just need ta breathe."

Carson's voice barely broke through the increasing fog that was trying to envelop him, but McKay did catch the last word: breathe. That's when he realized he had felt this way before, back in that cave, when the air was almost gone. But he had air here. Wasn't he breathing? It was something that was easy enough to test at any rate. Rodney breathed, and the effect was instantaneous: a head rush the likes of which he'd rarely experienced. He felt someone holding onto him as the world went floaty, but then it passed and he stared dazedly at Carson and Sheppard. "W-what just happened?"

"You were going to tell us how to fix the problem with the Ancient device, and then you just kinda…freaked out," John answered, noticing that he was breathing a bit hard himself.

"Oh, yes…right." McKay flinched with renewed tension as he spoke, and sweat had broken out across his forehead.

"Rodney, unless ya found something that is of immediate danger ta you or the colonel, ya can wait until the morning ta tell us. For now I want ya ta get some rest. I'm not sure what's got ya so worked up, but ya need ta relax before ya have a stroke." Carson didn't give McKay a chance to protest, taking him by the arm and guiding him to the bed next to Sheppard's.

Rodney sank down onto it, suddenly weary to his bones, and tried to calm his breathing as Carson took his pulse and blood pressure. The doctor shook his head at the results, which were both still well above normal, but declining.

"Whatever ya found in that database must be bloody well worrisome," Beckett commented quietly.

McKay let out a shuddering breath, intending to provide the sarcastic reply Carson was expecting, but the truth slipped quietly past his lips before he could stop it, "Sheppard's going to have to kill me to get better. I'd call that both bloody and worrisome."

Beckett was so stunned his mouth actually dropped open, but he wasn't able to inquire further because Rodney chose that moment to drop off to sleep. A part of him wanted to wake McKay and demand to know what in blazes he was on about, but he knew the man needed the rest. Sighing, Carson drew the covers over Rodney and stooped to collect the Ancient device and the scientist's laptop.

"What did he say?" John asked. "I thought I heard my name."

Carson straightened and shook his head. "He's just exhausted and worried about you," Beckett hedged, not wanting to go into any sort of detail about what he'd just heard until he had all the facts. "Speaking of which, are ya feelin' any better?"

John looked at Carson warily, knowing a subject-change when he heard one, "Yeah, the nausea's gone."

"What about your headache?"

Unfortunately, the doc also knew exactly which subject needed changing to. "I could use a couple of Tylenol or something," John allowed. The shot of morphine seemed to have worn off, and between his arm and his head he wasn't about to deny the discomfort entirely.

"I thought ya might. I'll send Megan right in with that." Beckett patted John's leg and was out the door before the colonel could so much as say thanks, further adding to his suspicion that something was up.

Sheppard looked over to McKay's bed. The lump under the blankets wasn't moving, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. "Pssssst! McKay!" he called quietly. "Hey, Rodney, are you awake?" John waited, but received no response. He let out a frustrated sigh. What was going on, and why didn't Beckett want him to know about it?

* * *

Carson gave Megan instructions to administer John's medication—the colonel was getting something a bit stronger than Tylenol for his headache whether he liked it or not—before heading for his office. He was facing a dilemma to be sure. While he was likely in possession of the answers he wanted, he knew Rodney would be furious if he messed with the laptop. Still, he felt a responsibility to his patients to be as well-informed as possible when treating them and both men currently fell under that category, even though he doubted he would be keeping Rodney in the infirmary much past morning.

The doctor shook his head and placed the laptop on a side table in his office, locking the bag containing the Ancient device back in his desk drawer. From Rodney's willingness to sleep, he assumed there was nothing to be immediately concerned with and that the explanation could wait a few more hours, but the scientist's words were deeply troubling. Even so, Carson knew he needed to get some sleep himself and turned off the lights, stretching out on his sofa and closing his eyes.

He opened them again a few minutes later. And again a few minutes after that. Beckett groaned. Leave it to Rodney and John to destroy his carefully-honed skill of being able to grab a quick nap just about anywhere at any time. It wasn't the first sleepless night one or both of the men had caused him, and he doubted it would be the last, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. Nor was he happy that this time it was partially due to his own curiosity getting the better of him. "Bugger," Carson muttered. He got up, flipped the lights back on, opened Rodney's laptop, and started reading.

* * *

"Pssssst! Sheppard! Hey, Sheppard, wake up! Pssssst!"

John almost thought he was dreaming, re-living the events that had happened before he'd gone to sleep, but then he realized that it was his name being called, not Rodney's. Also, there seemed to be a perpetually deflating tire somewhere in the vicinity. "McKay, it's late. Go back to sleep," he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

The sporadic deflating tire noises stopped and were replaced by a snort. "I think you've lost a few hours there, Colonel. It's almost 0900."

"It's called sleeping, McKay. You should try it once in a while."

"I have been, for the past five hours. Carson tricked me."

"Oh, don't sound so upset. He tricked me too. I asked for Tylenol. I think I got Ambien on steroids."

"Yeah, well, you could use to bulk up a little."

The jab sounded as forced as it was, and John shifted so he could see Rodney, gritting his teeth for a moment when he was forced to move his injured arm. "Seriously, what's going on with you, McKay? _Lack_ of sleep is supposed to make you grumpy, not the other way around."

Rodney threw a quick sideward glance to Sheppard, then his eyes snapped back to focus on his hands which were tightly clasped in his lap. "Sleep has nothing to do with this. I naturally get grumpy at the thought of my friends having to kill me."

John frowned in confusion. "Who's trying to kill you?"

"No one's _trying_ to kill me, but, uh…for lack of a better way of saying this, you're going to have to."

The last few words were spoken so softly that John was sure he'd misunderstood, but his eyebrows shot skyward nevertheless. "Come again?"

"You heard me." McKay's voice took on that slightly-accusing tone that always made him more comfortable with delivering bad news, "You wanted to know what the cure was for your condition, well, that's it. Straight from the Ancient Insulting Database to you. I know it sucks, believe me, but well, I've…you know…come to terms with it and such…sort of. I mean, I wouldn't have even told you, I'd have let Ronon take care of it, but he'd make it painful and he'd enjoy it too much. I really don't want to go through with this, but it's either you or me, and it can't be you because that would just be—"

"Rodney!"

"—cruel with what it's doing to you." McKay stopped talking and forced his eyes to meet Sheppard's.

John had already taken a deep breath to tell the scientist in no uncertain terms that he was full of shit, but let out the air in a sigh and scrubbed a hand across his face at seeing the man's haunted expression. "Aw, hell, Rodney. Is that why you got sick earlier?"

McKay shrugged. "It seemed like an appropriate response to the given data."

"_If_ it's true, which I'm not convinced it is. Just relax, no one's killing you. Sure as hell not me."

"While I appreciate the wishful thinking, Colonel, you may not have a choice. There's no other way to shut down the device."

"And just what exactly _is_ the device?"

"A medical instrument, according to the database. There were a few prototypes in existence, but it was still in the experimental stages and being developed by a private group of scientists, so that explains why we've never seen one before. It was to help save coma patients and the severely injured. I'm not a witchdoctor like Carson, so don't ask me for specifics, but it basically links two minds together—the injured person's and one who's uninjured—and the healthy person pulls the other back from the brink of death through sheer force of will or something."

John looked surprised. "We found a mind-meld machine?"

"Yes, Colonel Kirk. I'm sure Spock would be very proud." Rodney rolled his eyes before adding, "It's not quite a mind-meld, though that seems to be what they were going for. Beckett could give you a better description since it seems he's stolen the laptop with all of my data, but I don't think it goes so far as to allow people to telepathically share thoughts. It's more of a mental-energy transfer, like re-charging a dead battery or something."

"Well they sure got the transfer part down pat." Sheppard gestured to his arm, then cringed as he saw Rodney wince. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

McKay shrugged in half-hearted dismissal. "I don't think that was an intended feature of the device. There's no mention of it making anyone sick or causing injury. Probably a bug they had yet to work out. Unfortunately for us there were a lot of those, and they also had the 'our ideas are fool-proof' complex down pat when they forgot to make an off switch."

"The Ancients may have been arrogant, but they weren't stupid. They had to have at least built in some sort of failsafe, right? Could it have something to do with proximity, like it would shut down if the people who were linked got far enough away from it? Some of the other technology we've seen works that way."

"Yes to proximity, no to shutting down. There's a failsafe to protect the healthy person's mind in the event that the comatose patient dies during the procedure. This failsafe also kicks in if either person gets too far away from the device at any given time, since there does appear to be some limitation to the viable distance of the connection, but don't think that's good news. If either party gets too far away from the device, the healthy person will pass out. This helps avoid any potential problems from a spotty connection. If the comatose patient dies, the healthy person will also pass out, but the device will power down. In either case, the healthy person will wake up a few hours later and be fine. Seriously, Microsoft would be very proud of just how often the Ancients thought a reboot could fix everything."

"Yeah, well, Bill Gates can just keep his pride. I think that database has some severe translation issues if they consider this 'fine'," John said, indicating himself and his present surroundings. "Although, if I passed out back on the planet, that might explain my lapse in memory and why I have no recollection of how I got back to the ruins."

Rodney looked thoughtful, "It does say that the healthy person will feel a strong desire to return to an acceptably functional proximity upon waking if they haven't already been returned. There wasn't much detail, but it makes perfect sense."

"It does?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. When we were on the planet and I first contacted you over the radio, you seemed kind of out of it and you kept saying you had to find something. You didn't tell me what, but you said it was to help me. At the time I thought you were talking about helping me get out of the cave, but you must have meant the device. Anyway, right after that you didn't say anything for a long time, but then said you'd touched some Ancient technology and couldn't remember stuff. Oddly, you started making more sense right about then. Does any of this sound familiar?"

John shrugged. "I remember leaving the ruins in the morning, then nothing concrete until I was telling you that I didn't know what had happened."

"Hmm. Apparently in Ancient 'strong desire to return' means 'mind-control via sleepwalking and amnesia'. That has to have been what was going on, the device was drawing you back."

"That's just a little creepy."

"Yes, but the problem remains that the only way to shut down the device is to cure or kill the comatose patient. Since I'm obviously not comatose, there's no way to cure me. Thus the more undesirable option."

"Forget about it Rodney." Sheppard glared at the scientist. "I'll say it again. No one's going to kill you so knock it off." John used his best commanding tone, but he should've known it wouldn't work. It seldom did when Rodney got like this.

"Have I been speaking a foreign language all this time, Colonel? Because I thought I had been pretty clear. Two options, one of them won't work. Do the math, you're good at it."

"And I thought you didn't understand certain information concerning the device because you're not a physician," John retorted. "I'm sure Carson will come up with a third option."

"And when he doesn't?" Rodney glared at Sheppard.

Sheppard glared back, actually swinging his legs around so he was sitting on the edge of the bed facing McKay, his arm resting on the pillow he'd shifted onto his lap. "He will."

Rodney really, really wanted to believe the determination he heard and saw in his friend, for the glare John had pinned him with was one of frustration not anger, but he just couldn't. Fear of John dying—and then fear of his own death—had prompted him to run every last diagnostic and test he could think of, and several more that he'd invented on the spot, but nothing seemed to contradict the database. His glare deepened, except he wasn't really glaring at Sheppard, but rather the injustice of the situation. That didn't mean that he didn't notice John massaging his temples though. Rodney's gears of thought abruptly ground to a halt. "Crap, not again." He threw the covers aside and stood up, hurrying over to Sheppard. "Hey, are you okay? Well, I mean, of course you aren't, but I've stopped having disagreeable thoughts about you doing you-know-what to me, so, um…Sheppard?"

After a moment, John paused in his rubbing and looked at Rodney through tired eyes. "I'll be fine, McKay. The pain's already going away a little. Thanks for trying not to think. I know that's hard for you."

McKay tilted his head to the side and frowned. "Was that gratitude or a poorly-worded insult?"

"How about we go with poorly-worded gratitude?" John said, grinning slightly.

"Works for me." McKay returned Sheppard's smile, then slowly frowned again as he studied the colonel. "Maybe you should lie down. You're looking all pasty again."

"That's _because_ I've been lying down, McKay. It's not exactly the greatest thing to get a person's blood flowing. I need to get up and move before my joints rust solid. Besides, nature calls."

McKay made a face, but didn't try to stop him. "Is Carson okay with this? Did he say you could be up?"

"No, he didn't," Beckett said, entering the room and giving Sheppard a look of disapproval.

John eyed Beckett suspiciously, then glanced around. "Do you have this place bugged or something, Doc?"

"No, but I have ta say, the thought's crossed my mind more than once, especially with you two."

"Hey! Why are you including me in this? What did I do?" McKay objected.

"I don't recall saying you could be up either," Beckett replied.

Rodney looked down pointedly at the now-rumpled clothing he'd changed into last night between infirmary visits and said smugly to Carson, "I don't see any scrubs. I was tired, so I took a nap while visiting the colonel. From the look of it I got more sleep than you did."

Beckett narrowed his eyes at the scientist but said nothing, so Rodney continued, "And thank you ever so much for stealing my laptop and probably corrupting all of my important data, though I guess you may as well keep it now, considering the circumstances."

"What circumstances would those be?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Carson. Go ahead, tell Sheppard the bad news. I've already told him but he doesn't believe me."

John didn't give Beckett a chance to respond. "Rodney thinks he's going to convince me to kill him. He says it's the only way to shut down the device. I told him he was full of crap."

"You did not," Rodney said petulantly.

"Well, I meant to. Doc, back me up on this," John said the last bit with a little trepidation, hoping Carson would confirm his assertion.

"That's actually what I was comin' ta talk ta the two of ya about." Beckett pulled over a chair and sat down. He was about to continue when he noticed that John was squirming uncomfortably where he sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you all right, Colonel?"

"I'm fine, but as I assume this discussion will take longer than half a minute, uh…would you mind if I made a trip to the little pilot's room first?"

"Oh, of course," Beckett looked apologetic, suddenly realizing why Sheppard had been talking about getting up. "Hold on just a moment while I get a wheelchair."

"It's not that far. I can walk."

"I don't doubt that, Colonel, but you're not going to. This is the first time you've been out of bed since losing a fairly substantial amount of blood yesterday. You're likely going ta feel lightheaded for the next day or so and I don't need ya fallin' on your face when it's easily preventable." The colonel looked ready to protest further, but Beckett held up his hand, "If ya do all right, I might let ya walk with Megan next time."

"I guess I'll probably get there faster on wheels anyway," Sheppard finally acquiesced and Carson left to get the chair.

The trip to use the facilities went smoothly in that he didn't pass out or fall over, but the short jaunt made John feel worse than he cared to admit. Carson had been right about the lightheadedness, and it seemed that moving only made his body ache more rather than loosening his stiff muscles as he'd hoped. By the time Beckett helped him back into bed a few minutes later, John was having flashbacks to when he was fifteen and had missed an entire week of school due to the flu from hell. In fact, it was possible that he'd actually felt better then—he'd certainly felt stronger—but at least Beckett wasn't like his father, grumbling at him for being forced to miss work.

John shook his head no when Carson asked if he was cold, but then realized that he _was_, and found himself wondering just who had said what when Carson ended up tucking a couple of extra blankets around him anyway. He lay still, giving the gently spinning room a chance to settle before he finally was able to gather his thoughts back to the present. Remembering the topic of conversation, he turned his head to see the doc and Rodney both looking at him. "I don't do tricks, guys."

"No, but we thought if you passed out we'd take some pictures of you drooling to humiliate you with later…if I have a later," Rodney commented.

John looked to Beckett pleadingly. "Doc, please convince Rodney that there's going to be a later."

"Aye," Beckett agreed, his expression as exasperated as John felt. "As ya already know, the Ancients forgot ta include an off switch, so ta speak. It hasn't been put through extensive testing either, so there are still a lot of unknowns. What is known, however, has been documented in detail and that's a good thing for our purposes."

"Told you so," John said to Rodney.

"I haven't heard him mention any miracle cures yet, Colonel…though right now would be a really convenient time to mention one." Rodney looked at the doctor with the first measure of hope he'd shown all morning.

Carson shrugged, his expression sympathetic. "It's not so much a cure as a theory, I'm afraid, but the database does go into medical specifics on many of the basic functions—and a few of the not-so-basic ones—so there's still some things we can try before resortin' ta the kind of drastic measures you've been discussing with the colonel here." Beckett gave McKay a disapproving frown.

Defensive as always, Rodney sniped, "As you've pointed out before, Carson, I'm not a voodoo master of your caliber. Even though medicine isn't exactly what I would call a science, you have to admit that the obvious solution is still often the correct one, and by that logic my solution is reasonable."

"_Was_ reasonable," Sheppard corrected. "Now that we have other options, not so much. What sort of alternatives are we talking about here, anyway?" he asked Beckett.

"Well, going along with Rodney's obvious solutions logic, I'd say that a coma is our best bet. A drug-induced coma," Beckett clarified, seeing McKay's somewhat-alarmed expression. "It would simulate the condition the device is tryin' ta correct, and hopefully deactivate the thing when the drugs wear off and ya wake up."

"That's actually rather clever." Rodney looked annoyed, though it was a cheerful annoyance. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Yeah, but it sounds too easy," Sheppard put in. "Won't the device realize that it's not me waking him up? If it's advanced enough to link our minds like this, which it obviously is, don't you think it'll notice us trying to cheat?"

"Ta be honest I'm not entirely sure. It's a possibility, which is why we're also going ta simulate you waking him up, Colonel."

"And just how do you plan to do that? Have him grab hold of my face and chant 'my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts'?" Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Yes, actually." The scientist gaped at Beckett, but Carson only held his serious expression for a beat longer before breaking into an exasperated smile. "This isn't a science fiction program, Rodney. I was only meaning that the colonel will have ta do what comes naturally at the time. There's not a manual for exactly how the genetic portion of the interaction takes place. As with using the control chair or the puddlejumpers, I expect he'll know what ta do when the time comes."

"Yeah, McKay. You're not actually going to be in a coma. Even if I can't figure it out, you'll wake up on your own when the drugs wear off. Worst-case scenario, we'll be back where we started from."

"Dammit, Sheppard, why did you have to say that?" McKay whined.

"Why did I have to say what?"

"Worst-case scenario." McKay made air quotes with his hands. "With you there are always various terrifying levels of worst-case scenarios. Now someone's probably going to die and that someone will probably be me!"

"Weren't you just begging me to kill you five minutes ago?" John raised an eyebrow and barely concealed a laugh at how red Rodney's face got.

"That was a one-time offer, Colonel. So sorry you missed out."

John was tempted to continue the snarking, but he figured there were more important things to be accomplished first and so instead turned to Carson. "This sounds like a plan, Doc. When do we start?"

"No time like the present," Rodney agreed with a resigned sigh, also letting the sarcasm drop.

"Except for perhaps this evening," Beckett countered.

"Why? We're both already here. If we wait until tonight I'll probably be busy with more—equally—important things."

"It's going ta take me awhile ta get this set up. Also, I'd like ta let both of ya have a bit more time ta recover from yesterday before administering the kind of high-powered sedatives we're talkin' about here. Why don't ya go spend a nice relaxing day taking care of those things you mentioned and I'll call ya when I'm ready."

"Fine, I suppose that would be better than listening to Colonel Van Winkle snoring all day. I hope you're done with my laptop, Carson. It's needed for important things elsewhere." Rodney turned toward Carson's office with a wave.

"McKay?" Sheppard called, just as the scientist reached the doorway.

"Yes, what?"

"Try not to do anything dangerous. I have as many stitches as I can handle for now." It was said with humor but still provoked a glare from McKay, even if the glare held more apology than heat.

"Don't worry, Colonel. I'll make Radek play stuntman for the day. He's always begging me for more exciting projects anyway. See you tonight."

**TBC…**


	8. Feedback's a Bitch

**Chapter 8 – Feedback's a Bitch**

John didn't object to waiting until the evening to try Beckett's experiment. For one thing, he knew his objection wouldn't have changed Carson's mind. For another, it actually felt good to sleep without being drugged. His headache had offered him a reprieve, so he made good use of the time and snoozed away the rest of the morning and a small slice of the afternoon following lunch. Unfortunately, it seemed that would be the extent of his uneventful day.

He awoke to find that another trip to the bathroom was in order and glanced around for a nurse. There wasn't one since he was still in one of the lesser-traveled areas of the infirmary so John figured he'd just have to make do. Beckett had certified him capable of walking to the bathroom on the condition that someone go with him, but it wasn't as though a nurse was going to be able to stop him from hitting the floor if he passed out anyhow.

Course of action decided, John began to sit up. His back didn't seem to want him to move, however, and painfully announced its objection. Frowning in confusion as well as discomfort, he tried again, this time reaching out a stiff arm to the control that would adjust the bed. Even being elevated that way, with no effort on his part, had his muscles screaming and John let his hand fall back to the mattress. He wasn't quite halfway upright. For good measure he flexed his knees, and received much the same result for his trouble. Now _this_ posed a bit of a problem.

Sheppard let the pain subside a little while he considered his limited options. He could call for a nurse, bring attention to the aches—which he could no longer attribute entirely to laying in bed for two days—and likely get his bathroom privileges revoked. Or he could not alert anyone and find himself in a much more embarrassing situation in a few minutes' time. John sighed. Sometimes his life sucked. He reached for the call button and pressed it.

To his surprise, it was a flustered-looking Carson who answered the page a minute later. "Don't you have a staff anymore?" John asked curiously.

"Sometimes I wonder, lad. Did ya need something?"

"All that liquid you've been pumping into me wants back out again," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Beckett narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. "And since when do ya listen ta me about having someone go with ya?"

Damn, he caught on fast. "Uh, well, that's an interesting story…"

Carson let out a resigned sigh. "Is this the kind of interesting that's going ta have me spendin' another two hours in surgery stitchin' ya up or the kind that involves fifty wee salamanders crawlin' all over the ward?"

"They didn't." John's expression darkened as he realized what Carson's second type of interesting must mean.

"I'm afraid they did."

"Sorry, Doc. My men are so dead when I get out of here."

"Aye, well, you'll have ta take on whoever's left when Elizabeth gets done with 'em then. In fact, ya might as well just let her take care of it. I hear that whoever it was did quite the number on her office last night as well."

"Let me guess, iguanas," John said flatly.

Carson shook his head. "I'm going ta leave it up ta her ta tell ya. What I've heard are only rumors. Now, care ta tell me your interesting story, Colonel?"

"Well, it doesn't sound interesting at all compared to that." John raised an eyebrow. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"I think ya know me better than that, Colonel," Carson was beginning to look concerned. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"Okay, but then I'm going to the bathroom whether it takes a gurney to get me there or not, deal?"

Beckett crossed his arms in front of him. "Ya know I'm not in the business of makin' deals I can't honor, Colonel. Now out with it."

"I, um, well…I'm having a little trouble getting up at the moment, and for previously-mentioned reasons that's starting to be a problem."

"Define 'a little trouble'."

"It hurts to move. My muscles ache, and it feels like I've got arthritis in every joint in my body."

"Is it the same way ya felt right before…" Carson gestured to the colonel's arm.

John's eyes grew wide in alarm. "Oh, no. Where's McKay? I told him to be careful!"

"No, no. Take it easy, lad. I'm not saying the two are related. I was just trying ta figure out how long you'd been having the pain."

Sheppard took a deep breath to calm his nerves and let it out before he answered. "I think it's sort of been constant since we came back from PX9-253, but it comes and goes like the headache."

"And ya already tried getting up?"

"Come on, Doc. You know I don't take your advice about having someone go with me." John grinned, but there was a certain unease beneath the humor.

"Aye, that's why this worries me a little. I may want ta get another scan, but first things first. Do ya want ta try it again?"

"I suppose I'd better unless I want bigger problems."

"All right, just relax then. I'm going ta raise the bed a bit and we'll see how ya do from there."

John nodded and let out another breath as Carson pressed the control on the side of the bed. It had inclined perhaps three inches when Sheppard cringed, the change in position stretching the muscles in his back. "Keep going," he said tensely to Beckett, who was watching him closely and had surely noticed his discomfort. The doctor looked skeptical, but did as requested. By the time John was upright, he could feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His lower back felt like it was being crushed by the vise it was evidently in, and even his hips were beginning to ache from supporting more of his weight.

"Maybe this isn't the best of ideas, Colonel. There are other ways ya can take care of business, at least until you're not hurting so much."

It was the thought of those 'other ways' that strengthened John's resolve, and, pushing away the covers as far as possible with his fingertips, he gritted his teeth and quickly swung his legs around. The wave of pain, however expected, was still enough to draw a quiet moan from John. He gripped the edge of the bed tightly with his good hand as he waited for it to pass. "Crap, I think I have new respect for why old folks are so damned cranky," he said breathlessly. He looked up at Carson, supposing he should be a little apprehensive about how concerned the doc's expression was, but he literally had more urgent things to think about. "Let's do this."

"Aye, and then I'm gettin' ya under the scanner. I'll feel a whole lot better once I have an idea what's causing this."

* * *

Of all the times he'd been oblivious to the world around him, whether due to unconsciousness, sleep, or medication, the ten minutes that followed were ten minutes Sheppard decided he'd have rather not been aware of. He had to admit that maybe, just maybe, when Beckett referred to him as stubborn the man had a point. John also agreed, in hindsight, that it would've been preferable to suffer the indignity of using a urinal rather than suffering the throbbing pain that had assailed almost every part of his body on the trip to and from the bathroom. Now lying flat , and blessedly still as the scanner passed over him, the colonel drowsily reflected that Carson would likely insist on that particular indignity the next time around so he'd better get used to the idea. He was just grateful that the doc was refraining from saying 'I told you so.'

John must have drifted for a moment because when he blinked back to awareness, the scanner had been moved aside and Carson was laying a blanket over him. The soft warmth on his skin was almost enough to drag his heavy eyelids closed again, but Sheppard fought against it. "What's the verdict, Doc?"

"Ya have quite a bit of inflammation in your joints and muscles. As for why, I'll need an hour or so ta analyze the results of the scan and compare them with the database's information on the device. In the meantime, I'll start ya on an anti-inflammatory which should help with the stiffness. It would be best if your mind was clear for this evening though, so I don't want ta give ya anything too strong if ya can manage without it."

"I'll be fine as long as I don't move," John said with a wry smirk.

"Just be sure ya let someone know if you're not. It would be best if your mind was clear, but that's not ta say I want ya lyin' here in pain either. Our experiment with Rodney can wait a bit longer if need be."

"Time's not exactly in my favor for figuring this out, Doc. Personally, I'd rather put up with being old for a few hours than keep having these headaches, so give me an ibuprofen and let's stick with the plan, okay?"

Carson didn't look entirely happy, but he nodded. The colonel did have a point. "All right. I'll finish getting set up and give Rodney notice ta wrap up whatever he's workin' on. Take a nap, Colonel. Ya look like ya could use it."

"The Rip Van Winkle jokes will never end at this rate," John grumbled.

"Don't worry, lad. We'll have this all sorted out soon," Beckett reassured him, and with a pat on the shoulder he was gone, leaving Sheppard to hope that he was right.

* * *

There had been nothing nice or relaxing about Rodney's day. He had managed to follow Sheppard's request of not doing anything dangerous purely because there was nothing dangerous that he could possibly do with his lab in its current state. Sure, if he were an idiot there were plenty of ways he could have managed to slash, burn, or otherwise maim himself, but the terms 'Rodney McKay' and 'idiot' were never in history, nor would they ever in the future, be found in the same sentence. This was why when Carson notified him that it was time, McKay had been all too happy to leave his underlings in charge of the prank-spawned chaos that was the main science laboratory of Atlantis and head off to face his fate in the infirmary. It was bound to be less infuriating, even if it did prove to be infinitely more frightening.

The scientist slipped into the infirmary through a side entrance, wanting to check on Sheppard before this whole fiasco got started. It wasn't that he didn't trust the colonel, he just wanted to make certain that the man was firing on all cylinders since he would soon be responsible for making sure Rodney's brain didn't leak out of his ears. Besides, McKay knew very well that all he would get from the colonel was his usual 'I'm fine' mantra if Carson was present.

As he approached Sheppard's bed, Rodney thought maybe he should've brought Beckett along after all. His confidence regarding this evening's activities was sinking rapidly into the yellow—more of a yellow-orange, really, not a cheerful canary yellow—and Rodney turned around and hurried toward Beckett's office. The doctor looked up from his computer when McKay entered, but never had the chance to speak before the scientist started griping, "Okay, I'm going to assume that since you're generally pretty good at the voodoo-mastery and such that you actually saw Sheppard before you called me. Based on that assumption, I have to ask why you think he's going to be able to do any good at a mind-meld when he's moaning and groaning in his sleep like his migraine's come back to haunt him and brought its friends agony and torment along for the ride."

"What?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh for the love of…stop asking that! You heard me the first time. What's wrong with Sheppard?"

Beckett frowned, pushing away from his desk and heading for the door even as he answered the scientist, "I wasn't aware that anything serious _was_ wrong. Anything new, that is." The doctor chose to reserve further judgment until they reached the man in question. He found John much as Rodney had said, tossing and turning in his sleep, a grunt or whimper escaping now and again. "Bugger, why can't he just listen ta me for once?" Carson muttered, shaking Sheppard's shoulder gently. "Colonel? I need ya ta wake up now, lad."

Sheppard mumbled something unintelligible and shifted again, but Carson tightened his grip slightly and the resistance was enough to bring John around with a start. "Craaap," he groaned, his jaw clenched as he rode out the wave of pain the sudden move had caused.

"The suggestion ta tell one of us if ya were hurting wasn't made for fun, Colonel." Though his tone was exasperated, Beckett's eyes were sympathetic.

John shrugged slightly, "I fell asleep and didn't notice anything was wrong until now." Just then, he noticed that Beckett wasn't alone. "Hey, Rodney. Guess it's time to get this show on the road, huh?"

"Maybe in a bit. Let's see how you're doing first." Carson slipped on his stethoscope and began his usual routine as Sheppard looked to McKay for backup. McKay just crossed his arms and glared, which could've meant just about anything, but didn't have much chance of indicating the scientist was going to plead John's case to Carson.

Returning Rodney's glare, just because he was in a serious mood to snipe at someone, John impatiently waited while Carson finished his exam. "Well?" he asked as the doctor was making notes on his chart.

"Your heart rate and respiration are quicker than normal, clear indicators that you're in pain even if ya are too bloody stubborn ta admit it." Carson cast a disapproving look his direction, then continued noting.

John sighed, though what he really wanted to do was punch something. Damn, but he was irritable. The pain was really beginning to wear on him. "I'm not trying to be difficult, Doc. Yes, I'm stiff and achy and feel like I should have about a hundred candles on my next birthday cake, but I'm not going to sit here and complain about it, and I'm definitely not going to delay getting this mind-meld crap settled just so I can take the good drugs and temporarily reduce the number of candles to a still-unacceptable seventy-two. You always say that to heal the symptoms you have to treat the cause. Well, we all know what the cause is here. Won't shutting that thing down solve the problem?"

"Probably," Carson allowed reluctantly. "As for the inflammation, I wasn't able ta get a clear answer from the database. Making an educated guess based on the information contained there, your last scan, and the data Rodney has gathered, though, I'd say that the culprit is a sort of feedback from the device. The Ancients designed it ta work with one conscious and one unconscious person, presumably with some built-in mechanism ta dial back the strength of the mental connection as the latter was healed. You and Rodney, however, have both been conscious for the majority of the time you've been 'connected'. Ta put it simply, it's too much for the device ta handle, and when the two of ya disagree about somethin' it puts even more stress on the connection, generating further information that the device doesn't know how ta interpret, and the unfortunate result is the pain and headaches you've been experiencing, Colonel."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "That's a hell of an educated guess, Doc."

"Yes, seriously, where did you come up with all of that? I mean, it would seem to make sense considering my data, but how did you manage to _read_ my data? I've had my laptop since this morning, and none of the information has even been processed yet. It's still all raw figures."

"Ya may find it hard ta believe, Rodney, but I have worked with raw scientific data before, and I've also used enough Ancient medical equipment in the last couple of years ta make some fairly sound inferences based on their commonalities with your device."

"Oh. Well, when you put it that way."

The three men glanced amongst themselves for several seconds before Sheppard broke the cycle by dropping his eyes to his lap. "Guys, come on, all this back and forth is making me dizzy," he looked sharply at Beckett, "figuratively speaking. Now tell me what I have to do to shut off that damn Ancient metal thing for good."

"Without erasing random parts of my intellect," added Rodney.

It was becoming very obvious to Carson that any further attempts at stalling would be met with annoyance at best. When Sheppard or McKay made up their minds about something it was difficult to convince them otherwise, but when both agreed it was nearly impossible. "Ya don't need ta do a thing for the time being," he told Sheppard. "Rodney, come with me and I'll get ya some scrubs. I want ta give ya a quick once over and discuss some details before we get started. And you," he pinned Sheppard with a look that promised the riot act plus possible acts of torture should he not heed the words, "will take the painkillers Megan brings ya and then rest until we're ready, am I clear?"

Sheppard nodded in resignation. "You are. Thanks, Doc."

**TBC…**


	9. One Track Mind

**Chapter 9 – One-track Mind**

John wasn't sure what was in the pills that Megan gave him because she had responded to his inquiry with "If I tell you I'll have to kill you," and for some reason he was inclined to believe her. Whatever the medication was, though, it had reduced his discomfort enough that he'd managed to doze until Rodney's voice woke him with a droning explanation of how to monitor the Ancient device's power output.

The physicist was sitting on the next bed wearing scrubs and looking irked, probably because of the IV and assortment of monitor wires he was now sporting, but he was being quite tolerant in his explanation to Carson, and seemed fairly calm in general considering the circumstances. John half-listened to what the two were saying while trying to wake up fully. After a few minutes, Rodney handed the laptop over to Carson and lay down on the bed. Beckett was hanging a small bag of clear fluid next to the saline that was already present on the hook above Rodney. John took that as his cue that things were getting underway. "See you in your dreams, Rodney."

McKay pushed up on his elbows. "Oh, ha ha. But seriously Sheppard, whatever you may find lurking in my brain is privileged information. No stealing my theories, and no telling embarrassing stories from my childhood! Better yet, no telling stories at _all_."

John grinned. "You're too paranoid, Rodney."

"Yes, well, even so. Good luck, and please try not to kill me."

"If I had wanted to kill you, I would've done it yesterday."

"Sheppard?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up so I can go to sleep." McKay and Sheppard looked at each other for a long moment, some silent message seeming to pass between them, before Rodney looked away, gave a quick nod to Carson, and closed his eyes.

John watched as Beckett hooked up the sedative to Rodney's IV and started the drip. The scientist was trying to act nonchalant, and even Sheppard didn't realize how tense McKay had been until the drugs started to take effect and relaxed his body. Sheppard cast a nervous glance toward Beckett. "Are you sure this isn't going to make things worse?"

"We won't be sure of anything until we try, but I don't think there's much chance of makin' it worse."

"Well, I hope you're right about that, Doc."

"Rodney's usually the one who worries about these things, not you," Carson observed.

"Guess I just don't want to risk putting anyone else through what's happened to me. What am I supposed to do here anyway?" John asked, changing the subject. He'd napped for nearly forty minutes so Rodney had undoubtedly already had time to badger Carson half to death about the potential dangers of what they were attempting, but if the doc had managed to convince McKay despite his paranoia, well, that spoke for itself.

Beckett shrugged in response to John's query, "The drugs will take him down pretty fast. I can tell ya when his brain activity reaches a comatose level. At that point, I'm afraid it's up ta you."

"But you'll know if something changes?"

"Aye, most definitely. The EEG will show any alteration in Rodney's brain activity. Just do what ya normally would ta activate Ancient technology, Colonel. I've seen nothing ta indicate that this should be any different."

"If you say so." John eyed the metal contraption warily. It was situated between he and Rodney, hooked up to two laptops and an Ancient scanner, and wasn't doing anything as far as he could tell, not even a couple of minutes later when Carson announced that McKay's brain activity was in the official comatose range. Though that was an expected condition of this phase of their experiment, Sheppard couldn't help but feel uneasy. Taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves, John turned his full attention to the unconscious man before him.

* * *

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. At twenty-plus-two-seconds Carson broke the silence, "Anything yet?"

"You tell me. I'm winging it here."

Carson studied the EEG readings for a moment, and also the power-monitoring system Rodney had set up. He shook his head. "No change. Ya haven't sensed anything at all?"

"No, and I've already gone through all of my normal methods. Twice. Maybe the sedatives are interfering."

"It's a possibility I can't rule out, but for all intents and purposes, he is in a coma. This should work, it's just a matter of figurin' out the details."

_Which could prove harder than it sounds_, Sheppard thought, but then he had an idea. He shoved aside the blankets covering him and carefully sat up. John received a few creaks and complaints from his body, but the aches were muted and he made it all the way to his feet and even took a couple of wobbling steps toward McKay before the motion drew the attention of Carson's peripheral vision.

"Colonel…" Beckett began with a weary sigh, but then thought better of wasting his breath on another lecture. Instead, he settled for gripping Sheppard's arm and steadying the man as he continued in McKay's direction.

Grateful for the assistance, though he'd never admit it, John decided to answer the question Carson's expression was asking. "The Ancients seemed to like activating things with touch," he said. "What if this _does_ work like in Star Trek?" Reaching out, John placed the fingertips of his good hand on McKay's forehead, suddenly glad the man was unconscious. He couldn't believe he was actually trying to perform a mind meld, and with Rodney of all people!

Beckett brought over a chair and John sat down without objection. His knees were already shaking and he'd only been up for a short time. After fifteen minutes of getting no results with his new method, he grumbled, "Come on, McKay, give me something to work with here."

At forty minutes, John considered touching the device again, just for the hell of it, but knew Carson would be furious, probably going so far as to call the whole thing off. At one hour, he gave in to his one and only remaining idea and stood up. "I swear, Doc, if you ever breathe one word of this to McKay I'll not only deny it, but you'll find yourself the recipient of a prank the likes of which this city has never seen before!"

Beckett looked up from his laptop and raised an eyebrow at the colonel's sudden outburst. Once he'd been satisfied that Sheppard wouldn't pass out from being upright, he'd continued catching up on paperwork, and aside from checking the power readings as Rodney had asked, he'd left the colonel to his task. Now he watched curiously as Sheppard changed position, splaying his fingers to cover points on Rodney's temple, cheekbone, and jaw-line. Only the underlying seriousness of the situation and biting his lip enabled Carson to keep a straight face when John said, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts."

After a beat, Sheppard looked up and shrugged sheepishly, "Figured it was worth a shot."

Beckett shrugged back. "Science and medicine have both employed stranger methods at times, Colonel, some of which have been known ta work."

John didn't answer, and Beckett's amusement was wiped out when he saw Sheppard's body stiffen, his eyes fixed on Rodney's face in an unseeing trance. "Colonel? Come on, lad, now is definitely not the time ta be jokin' around."

It took a full half-minute of hearing Carson's increasingly-worried voice calling out to him before John was able to respond. He drug in a shaky breath, "I'm not joking, Doc…I…I think I'm in."

"Explain, if ya wouldn't mind, Colonel."

"I can't…just check the power."

Carson hurried over to the laptop that was monitoring the device's power level and studied the screen. "Power output has decreased by half a percentage point," he reported. John gave a short nod in response.

Beckett had expected something further, but when the colonel remained silent the doctor's brows drew together in concern. He moved around to the other side of Rodney's bed so he could see John's face more clearly. What he saw didn't ease his mind. Sheppard continued to stand rigidly, his injured arm pressed against his side, his face taut with an expression of intense concentration. Most worrisome was his pallor—which had been pasty to start and was now going on translucent—the beads of sweat blossoming across his forehead, and his shallow erratic breathing. Carson wanted to intervene but he couldn't deny his own curiosity about what was happening, so he elected to wait, at least for the time being.

* * *

John didn't have the first clue what he was supposed to be doing. He was accustomed to activating Ancient technology by having it respond to his thoughts and mental requests. He was accustomed to shutting it down the same way, with a simple command. Therefore, by the time he'd resorted to the revered methods of Mr. Spock to solve his dilemma, he'd held only a slim hope that he would make any progress at all. That was until he'd found himself standing before the shimmering event horizon of an active stargate.

The colonel blinked, more than a little disoriented. Wasn't he in the infirmary? If he was, then this could mean only one thing. A satisfied smirk forming on his face, Sheppard stepped through the gate…and found himself inside a small, windowless chamber. Someone else was there too. He could hear a voice calling out to him. John scanned the room but didn't see anyone. He studied the characters on the wall, recognized them as symbols of a gate address, but the distracting voice kept speaking until its familiarity and insistence grabbed his attention. The voice was…telling him a joke? No, it was Beckett, telling him not to joke and sounding worried. So this _was_ it? He had really made some sort of contact with Rodney's mind?

Beckett wanted an explanation. The gate-symbol-scripted walls melted away around John, growing transparent as he asked Beckett about the device's power level. He figured he should at least make sure he was going the right direction, so to speak, before plunging further into the unknown. He did not provide an explanation of what had happened, however, partially because he didn't know how to, but mostly because of the effort it took to keep the walls at bay long enough to hear Beckett's response about the power. Once he knew it was dropping, he let the walls form up again.

Sheppard scrutinized the walls more closely, looking for a way out of the room or at least a hidden chamber. A laptop appeared in front of him so suddenly, floating in mid-air, that he jumped. The image on the screen was familiar: Atlantis' gate interface. It was waiting for IDC confirmation. Since he didn't see a GDO in the vicinity, John started typing his IDC into the hovering laptop.

The instant he hit enter, some unseen force yanked him backwards. He literally stumbled as the infirmary reappeared around him and would've fallen if not for the chair he'd been using earlier. As it was, he sat down hard enough that the legs scraped noisily across the floor.

"Colonel? Are ya all right?" Beckett asked, hurrying toward the dazed man and making use of his patient's momentary distraction to take his vitals.

"Y-yeah." Sheppard said shakily. He felt as though his ears should be ringing from the force of whatever had pulled him back, but they weren't.

"How do ya feel?"

John tried to hide a grimace. The look Beckett was giving him suggested that he didn't succeed. "I'm okay," he said, forcing his expression from slightly-pained to one of wry humor. "It just figures somehow that Rodney's mind is password-protected."

Beckett raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem all that surprised. It was a true testament to McKay's personality. "What did ya see?"

"A stargate, then there was this little room with a laptop to enter an IDC. Apparently I entered the wrong one," John said flatly. His eyes widened in sudden realization. "I know the right one though!" He made to stand, but Carson stepped in front of him and he was forced to either stay seated or shove the doc out of the way. Frowning, he chose the former.

"Just slow down there. Your vitals are a bit unstable. I'm not sure ya should go right back—"

"Dammit, Doc. I'm not gonna keel over," John growled in frustration. "I took some kind of mental jolt from entering the wrong code, but I know what not to do now. I'll be more careful this time."

"What kind of a jolt?" Carson didn't like the sound of that.

John sighed. "It's hard to explain. It didn't really hurt though, just broke the connection and kicked me back to reality."

Carson nodded slowly. The colonel did seem to be regaining a little color, but that didn't mean he was fine. "Did ya get any sort of an idea how long it might take ta shut down the device?"

"Not a clue. What's the power level reading now? That might be a better hint."

"It's one and a half points below where we started." Beckett paused, studying another portion of the screen. "Bloody hell."

"What?"

"The power level's rising. It must only decrease while the connection is active," Beckett said thoughtfully.

"So that means I'm going to have to do this all at once if it's going to work?"

"Aye, that's a good assumption. Since I don't suppose there's any way I'll talk ya into waiting on this, I'd like ta keep an eye on your vitals in the meantime. That 'jolt' didn't do ya any favors and ya were only…in there…for a few minutes."

The colonel shrugged. "Fine, but I need to get back _in there_." John was feeling an urgency he couldn't quite explain, and as he waited for Beckett to hook him back up to the monitoring equipment, he wondered if it was the Ancient device causing the sensation. If it was, he would spend time later being creeped out by it. The doc reluctantly pronounced him good to go and he moved back to his position near Rodney. John once again placed his fingertips along the side of McKay's face, but chose to skip the Star Trek quotes. He was fairly sure that touch had everything to do with the connection, but the timing of his words had just been a matter of coincidence. He repeated in his mind what he'd been thinking the first time around, and almost instantly the infirmary was replaced by the stargate looming in front of him.

Slightly less-startled by its appearance this time, John stepped through the gate and into the little room with the stargate-symbol walls. Again he thought about a way out, and again the laptop appeared waiting for an IDC. "At least it's consistent," he muttered, and started entering McKay's code. John took a deep breath, not cherishing the thought of being forcibly removed again, then he reached out and hit the enter key.

The wall he was facing vaporized, and John exhaled in relief before he stepped forward into a massive chamber, easily the size of half a football field. The space was indirectly lit, but small multi-colored lights chased in regular spurts along unseen tracks in the floor and distant walls, giving the room a vaguely pulsating, living feel. Cautiously, John made his way forward, looking for any signs of the room's purpose, but he found none. _Okay, now what?_ he thought.

The question was rhetorical in that he hadn't spoken it aloud and didn't expect a response, but a response he received, one that set aside any remaining doubt that he was glimpsing Rodney's mind. John slowly turned a circle, gaping at the sight before him. From within the gigantic floor of the gigantic room, pedestals began rising. Tens, maybe even hundreds of them, spaced evenly to form a grid pattern. Atop each one rested a cylindrical, instantly-recognizable crystalline object. ZPMs. Only a handful of them were active, judging by their glow, but the ones that weren't steadily lit still pulsated intermittently with an amber-colored radiance that matched the rhythm of the chasing lights. John could also feel and hear a soft, thrumming resonance now, keeping pace with the illumination.

Shaking his head, John murmured, "Only you would have a ZPM factory in your brain, McKay." He stepped up to the nearest pedestal and studied it, wishing he could read Ancient better…and suddenly he _could_. Sheppard blinked, and looked again at the once-foreign symbols that were now giving him clear information on the standard power output of a ZPM. Startled to say the least, he moved to the next pedestal, finding similar information to be easily readable. He looked at maybe five or six of them before concluding that nothing very helpful was listed on the pedestals themselves. _Where then?_ he wondered. _And how the hell am I able to read Ancient?_

John moved further down the line, still reading the pedestals to make sure he didn't miss anything. He was growing confused when a new platform popped up from the floor, directly in his path and in line with the pulsating ZPM to his right. The pedestal before him didn't have Ancient lettering, but its ZPM was glowing a solid orange and a tablet computer was attached to its side. He peered at the screen curiously. The number 863 was in the center in large black text, and two violet buttons were beneath it. They read Prime and Not Prime. John smiled. That was an easy one. Picking up the tablet's stylus, he selected Prime. The pedestal abruptly sank back into the floor, but the tablet remained hovering in front of him. Instinctively, Sheppard reached out to grab it, expecting it to fall, but it didn't and he easily plucked it from the air. A single, louder _thrum_ sounded beside him and he saw that the ZPM to his right had powered up and was now glowing steadily.

The screen on the tablet had gone blank and he waited several seconds for something to happen, but nothing did so he again moved forward, tablet in hand. Passing by several more ZPMs without incident, John decided to change direction, but before he could do so, the tablet screen lit up with a large green arrow pointing to the left. The colonel raised an eyebrow, but he had no particular reason not to take the arrow's advice, so he turned left. Another pedestal almost tripped him and the tablet screen changed to display a chess board. A couple of pawns on each side had been captured, but the majority of the pieces hadn't been moved yet. John immediately recognized the set-up as the game he had played against Rodney a few days ago. McKay had argued that Sheppard had somehow managed to cheat when he'd claimed victory with his next move, but John had insisted otherwise and their being late to a briefing had ended the discussion. Looking at the board on the tablet still hadn't changed John's mind and he made his move, the same as before. After a lengthy pause, during which he heard the hard drive in the tablet whine as if making more calculations per second than it was capable of, the screen announced 'checkmate.' John had the distinct and entirely irrational feeling that the tablet was miffed at him for making the move, but the screen simply went blank, the platform disappeared back into the floor, and the ZPM next to him thrummed to full power.

When the process repeated again—the tablet asking him to answer a basic physics question this time—John suddenly understood what was happening. The ZPMs were representing Rodney's level of consciousness, and activating them all would mean McKay would wake up and the mind-meld machine would no longer be needed. Spurred on by the realization, he hurried to find the next ZPM he needed to power up.

* * *

It had now been more than an hour and a half since Colonel Sheppard had re-entered Rodney's mind, but Carson found himself unable to return to his paperwork. It was going against his every instinct to even let this experiment continue. The colonel was far from healthy, and though his vitals had normalized—Carson had been watching the monitors like a hawk—whatever John was doing was taking its toll. Those vitals were gradually weakening, but Beckett needed only his eyes to tell him that. John still stood at Rodney's side, though his shoulders were slumped and his face drawn with fatigue as he stared, entranced, at the unconscious scientist. He hadn't spoken or even moved, with the exception of his slowly-wilting posture. The white scrub shirt clung to his back, and his face and neck were slick with perspiration. Most troublesome was that the power level of the Ancient device hadn't even dropped below the halfway mark, it was still at 63 percent. Whatever the colonel was doing was working, but Carson feared it wasn't working quickly enough.

Another 25 minutes saw the power inch downward another point, but also signaled the approaching limit of John's failing strength. Carson noticed the colonel's knees beginning to wobble and when the man failed to respond to his name, remaining absorbed in the connection with Rodney, Beckett moved to support him knowing it was only a matter of time. Sure enough, not even three minutes later Sheppard's knees buckled completely. Carson cursed and yelled for a gurney.

* * *

John was working his way through the ZPM room at best possible speed, but either the tasks were getting more difficult or his concentration was waning, and he would almost bet on the latter. Not that it was surprising. He'd been tired to start with, and after who-knew-how-long of solving physics equations, random chess moves, prime/not prime questions, and problems he recognized from Mensa preparation materials, John figured his concentration couldn't be blamed for its flakiness.

It wasn't until he began stumbling and needing to use the ZPM pedestals for support that he started to worry. If his theory about activating the ZPMs was correct, then he still had just under half of them to go before McKay would wake up and the Ancient device would shut down. Not being a pessimistic person by nature, he cursed his thought that there was no way he was going to make it.

Sheppard entered a move into the tablet for the latest chess game and cringed when his headache spiked. The pain slowly eased and he concentrated harder, trying again. John supposed it made sense that the headache would get worse if he answered a question incorrectly. This was Rodney's mind, after all, and so giving a wrong answer was equal to disagreeing with him. That didn't make the twenty or so bad decisions he'd made any less painful though.

As the tablet announced checkmate and yet another ZPM powered on, Sheppard heard Beckett calling his name. His concentration was already spread too thin though and he couldn't answer, instead walking unsteadily forward, following the tablet's instructions toward the next ZPM. A pedestal popped up in front of him, and he reached to set the tablet on it when he felt hands grip his arm, then his waist. Startled, John paused, but found that the hands weren't restricting him, only offering support, and that he could stand a little more easily now so he continued with his task, glad that this was an easy one: 1323, prime or not prime? He was about to enter 'not prime' when a wave of vertigo hit. The ZPM room vanished around him, and he heard a familiar accent shouting at someone. The hands were still there, lowering him carefully to a chair.

"John? Can ya hear me, lad?" Beckett's voice again. The colonel forced heavy eyelids open—when had he closed them?—and focused on Carson, thankful that the room had ceased its spinning.

"Doc…why'd we stop? It was working," John rasped, his throat suddenly feeling like it was coated with sandpaper.

"All I did was catch ya before ya hit the floor, Colonel. The connection must've broken when ya lost physical contact with Rodney because ya sure weren't respondin' ta me." Carson looked more than a little worried as he reached for his stethoscope.

Sheppard didn't have the energy or will to move, so he let Beckett do his thing while he concentrated on not falling over. His eyes must have slipped closed again because suddenly he was being hauled out of the chair by more hands. Eyes snapping open, he noticed that a gurney had appeared next to him and he tried to pull away from Beckett. "No, have to finish shutting it down…"

"Aye, son, and ya will shortly. Megan and I are just going ta help ya lie down, okay?"

"I'm fine," John mumbled, clearly trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

"Bloody daft is what ya are, Colonel. I'm not asking. Lay down before ya pass out." Carson grasped John's shoulders and coaxed him too easily onto his back with just the slightest of nudges. He found logic at war with logic as he studied the man. Sheppard was ungodly pale and trembling, and he offered no response or motion as Megan covered him with a blanket and gently wiped his face with a warm damp cloth. The simple effort of blinking his eyelids open each time gravity drug them down seemed to cost him greatly.

On the one hand, logic dictated that a man as exhausted and injured as the colonel ought to be nowhere but tucked up in bed, asleep and recovering. On the other, it dictated that Sheppard probably shouldn't be allowed to fall asleep right now, given the nature of what he was attempting and how very little they knew about the potential consequences. If he slept, he might never wake up. He might cause himself or Rodney irreparable brain damage. Or he might be just fine and get a much-needed rest.

Carson sighed. Damn logic. It might have worked for those fictional pointy-eared aliens who never smiled, but he refused with greater conviction each day to buy into the unlikely scenario that logic played any part whatsoever in the Ancients' reasoning when they'd invented their insane arsenal of technology. "Colonel?" Carson squeezed Sheppard's shoulder to get his attention. "Do ya think ya could manage ta stay awake for a few more minutes?"

John's eyes blinked open slowly and it seemed to take him several seconds to focus on Beckett. "I'll try…tired."

"I know ya are, lad. I'm going ta get ya something ta help ya wake up a little, but I need for ya not ta fall asleep before I get back."

"Coffee?" John asked, perking up at the idea, his eyes opening almost fully.

"Not exactly, but I think you'll find it just as effective. Maybe more so." Carson looked up when Megan cleared her throat and couldn't say he was surprised at the skeptical look she was giving him. He would've questioned him too for considering giving someone in John's condition stimulants, but he didn't see that he had much of a choice in this instance. Shaking his head slightly, he offered her a small smile. She gave him a long look, then shrugged, trusting that he knew what he was doing. She turned her attention back to the colonel while Beckett left to get the medication.

* * *

Sheppard had never felt so instantly alert in his life, except for maybe a time or two when excessive amounts of adrenaline and life-sucking aliens were involved. "This stuff's great, Doc. I think I'll skip the coffee line from now on and get a shot of this every morning," he said, grinning.

"Don't thank me yet, Colonel. That _stuff_ isn't without its consequences, and in your present condition I can only expect you'll crash hard when it wears off."

John shook his head. "I just need enough to keep going until I can get this thing shut down. Then I can sleep for a week. How long will it last?"

Carson shrugged. "I didn't give ya a full dose, so four, five hours at the most. I'm guessing closer ta three."

"I'd better get to work then." John started to sit up, but paused when both Megan and Carson frowned at him. "What?"

"You're on that gurney for a reason, Colonel, and you'll stay there until you're finished. I have no desire ta find out what would happen if ya lost consciousness during this. That's the only reason I risked giving ya a stimulant in the first place."

John nodded in understanding, able to think a little more clearly with what felt like pure caffeine buzzing through his veins, though he had to admit it was only masking the tiredness in his body. "I have to be in physical contact with Rodney for this to work," he pointed out.

"That's easy enough to accomplish," Megan piped in, and with Beckett's help maneuvered the gurney close alongside McKay's bed until Sheppard was literally only inches apart from the scientist. The colonel could just imagine the comments Rodney would make if he were to wake right about now. Sighing inwardly, John knew he would make much the same remarks if their situation were reversed, but also knew he would want Rodney to do what needed to be done, even if that meant being a little more touchy-feely than their definitions of personal space generally allowed for.

Setting aside the awkwardness, Sheppard reached out and laid his palm across his friend's forehead. Reaching the same points as before would've caused him to twist his wrist at an odd angle, and since this would likely take another hour at least, that wasn't an option. The stimulant coursing through him was making him slightly jittery, but he schooled the agitation into concentration, and soon he was back in, pleased to find that he hadn't lost too much ground with the delay. He picked up the tablet from the pedestal it was resting on and continued to follow where it led him.

Beckett stood waiting while the colonel apparently made the connection once again, then wondered what he was waiting for since it seemed that it was extremely difficult for Sheppard to carry on a conversation while he was connected. It was late and the infirmary was rather quiet, so Carson pulled up a chair and grabbed his laptop, but soon gave up all pretenses of paperwork in favor of a game of solitaire. Megan joined him a while later, carrying two cups of coffee—coffee that was actually hot and not several hours old. Smiling his thanks, he put aside the laptop altogether and they settled down to keep vigil.

Over the next two hours, they watched the power level of the device inch downward and though there had never been a rapid decrease, the numbers were dropping slower than ever. Carson could only assume that it was due to the colonel's exhaustion. The stimulant had held off the fatigue fairly well thus far, but Sheppard's vitals were beginning to show signs that he was coming down. His body showed it too. Dark circles stained the skin beneath his closed eyes and contrasted sharply with cheeks that were far too pale. Tremors passed through his limbs from time to time, and beads of cold sweat continued to appear along his hairline, hinting at the further exertion that was taking place. That crash Beckett had warned about was approaching, and he only hoped John would be able to hold out long enough to finish the job.

The power reading on the computer Rodney had set up was accurate to a hundredth of a percentage point and somewhere in the wee hours of the morning it had finally dropped below one percent. It was currently showing at 0.18 percent, declining a hundredth of a point every minute or so. Colonel Sheppard, however, had reached the limits of his stimulant-induced stamina. He was barely awake, judging from his vitals, and he hadn't verbally responded to questions of how he was doing in over 45 minutes. The monitor had reached 0.01 percent when Megan's worried voice broke the silence that had overtaken them, "Doctor, I think he's asleep. Should I try to wake him?"

Carson's eyes immediately fixed back on the power reading. It was holding at 0.01 percent, and both of the touch plates on the device were dark. He gave the colonel's monitors a glance. They confirmed what Megan had said. "How are Rodney's vitals looking?" he asked.

Stepping over to the other bed, she studied the displays for a few seconds. "All fairly normal. His brain activity seems to be increasing steadily as well."

Beckett sighed, chewing on his lower lip for a moment, finally shaking his head no. "We'll get the colonel back ta his bed and let him rest. I expect he'll be out for a good while and he'll be more comfortable there."

Megan and Carson wheeled Sheppard back across the room and transferred him carefully from the gurney to the bed. He stirred slightly, but didn't show any sign of waking. "Continue regular vitals checks on both of them for the next few hours and let me know if there's any change. I also want ta know immediately if that bloody piece of metal starts powerin' up again," Carson said, rubbing his eyes.

"On one condition." Beckett gave Megan a questioning look, to which she responded, "Go take a nap, Carson. You're starting to make Colonel Sheppard look chipper."

He smiled sheepishly. "Aye, I suppose ya have a point. Ya know where ta find me if there are any problems."

"Of course. Now beat it." She winked at him and he chuckled as he turned away toward his office.

**TBC…**


	10. The Gravity of the Situation

**Chapter 10 – The Gravity of the Situation**

Rodney McKay's head hurt. His arms, legs, and every other part of his body felt as though gravity had increased tenfold while he'd been asleep and was now pinning him to the mattress. The heavy gravity was also affecting his mind, slowing it down, but as luck would have it his mind moved at a fairly good clip to start with, so in reality he was probably thinking at the speed of most normal people for a change. That in itself was…unsettling…but there wasn't much to be done about it. After all, he couldn't expect to wake from a coma—even an artificial one—firing on all cylinders. Curiosity had a funny way of overcoming gravity, though, and Rodney found himself struggling against his lethargy to push himself to a sitting position. The room was dark, but Sheppard liked it that way these days, so he hadn't really expected otherwise. He did, however, expect to find out what was going on and since there was no one around to ask, McKay went about getting the answers for himself.

Sliding as close to the edge of the bed as he could manage without falling, Rodney reached for his laptop, surprised to find that it was mid-afternoon of the day following the experiment. Carson hadn't been kidding when he'd said 'powerful' sedative! Making a note to criticize Beckett's drug-strength classifications later on, McKay dug into the data that was waiting for him. He reorganized the readings by power output level, and scrolled down the list, figuring that would be the quickest way of determining where they were at with shutting down the device. Of course, just looking at the thing could work too. He rolled his eyes at himself. A certain television commercial with a picture of a frying egg came to mind: this was definitely his brain on drugs.

McKay continued down the list, given that he'd already read half of it, but when 0.02% and 0.01% weren't followed by 0.00%, the cold hard lump of doom materialized in the pit of his stomach right on cue. With a good measure of dread, Rodney slowly turned his head toward the table holding the Ancient device…and promptly snapped his eyes back to his laptop screen at the first glimpse of the dimly illuminated touch plates. Heart pounding in his chest, eyes wide, he risked another quick glance, as if looking at it for too long would turn him to stone. "At least if I were a marble statue the damn thing would stop glowing," he grumbled, trying to shove away panic enough so that he could consider the implications.

Maybe it wasn't still active. 0.01% didn't drop to 0.00%, but it didn't rise again to 0.02% either. The percentage readings actually stopped altogether at 0.01%. Had the program malfunctioned while recording? Typing furiously, Rodney began to notice discrepancies in the data as he modeled it according to energy frequency instead of power output. In fact, a pattern was emerging, showing two distinct energy frequencies. He graphed the frequencies over time, and suddenly the answer to what had happened was staring him in the face. And it was grinning malevolently.

"No." Rodney looked at the device, then back to his graph, then back to the device again. "There's nothing in the database to show that Carson's cure would result in this. No no no no no…" the mantra continued, as did his typing, trying to find something that contradicted his data.

* * *

"There's nothing in the database…Carson's cure…result in this."

Sheppard was just aware enough to recognize Rodney's voice, and had a peculiar feeling that the cure McKay was talking about had something to do with him. Was he sick? With the way he felt he thought it was certainly possible, but all he really remembered was having a headache. Needing to know what was going on, he tried to open his eyes, but the only discernable motion he achieved was a twitch of his eyebrow. Then the wet-noodle feeling overtook him again and it was an effort to keep paying attention, so he let his mind wander. Worry nagged at him, though, and as tired as he still was he couldn't seem to slip back into sleep.

He didn't recall coming down with any exotic illnesses, but he did remember a man other than Rodney talking about a fix for a problem, a cure. That man's face—dark eyes, olive skin, solid, severe jawline—flashed in his mind's eye, and Sheppard tensed, other memories suddenly surfacing. He recalled scuffling with the man in the hills near the ruins on PX9-253, the man pulling some sort of energy weapon on him and making him give up his P-90 and sidearm before forcing him at gunpoint to touch the now-familiar metal device.

There were still parts that were hazy, but Sheppard's memories continued to burn their way through. After making him touch the artifact, Mr. X had manhandled him roughly back to the cabin where he'd spoken of a problem with the device and an experimental solution. They'd scuffled again, but Sheppard was no longer clear on why. Then, much to his horror, John remembered slashing his knife across the man's throat.

"No no no no no…" Sheppard heard Rodney's voice again, and he couldn't agree more.

"NO!" The hoarse yell ripped from John's throat, adding another accented beat to McKay's negative mantra, and Sheppard was sitting upright before his body got the memo that it wasn't currently strong enough to do so.

Rodney, for his part, nearly jumped out of his skin, having thought Sheppard to be sound asleep. Turning to look at the colonel, he quickly realized that Sheppard's vertical state was only temporary. _Very_ temporary. The colonel was already tilting forward and to the side, and the 'oh, crap' look on his face suggested that he wasn't going to be able to do anything to stop the motion. Since the gravity in the room still seemed rather heavy, Rodney doubted he would be of much use either, but threw his covers aside nevertheless, shouting, "Carson!" as he attempted to hurry toward his friend.

With lead weights for legs, Rodney only managed to reach the colonel's side a second before Beckett—that man had to have been hovering outside the door _waiting_ for something bad to happen!—and McKay promptly stepped out of the doctor's way, dropping into a chair when it became obvious to his spinning head that Carson would be picking them both up off the floor otherwise. He was a little shocked when Beckett actually caught Sheppard in time.

The colonel also let out a grunt of surprise at the sudden stop, having fully expected to end up taking a nose dive into the floor. The grunt faded into a very quiet moan of pain as his headache flared, but the sound was no less heartfelt for its volume. Every scrap of strength had left him, and John leaned heavily against Carson, his throbbing forehead dropping onto the doc's shoulder. "S'ry," he mumbled, too drained to even be self-conscious of his need for support.

"It's all right, lad, I've got ya," Carson reassured, shifting position slightly to gain the leverage he needed to ease Sheppard back down.

"This th'…crash you talked…'bout?" John questioned while Beckett fussed over him, rearranging blankets and checking his monitors.

"Aye, I'm afraid so," Beckett said, casting a slight frown at Sheppard. "I'm not quite sure how ya managed ta sit up at all as weak as ya are, but until you've had at least another 24 hours of rest I don't want ta see ya tryin' it again. You're ta stay flat on your back, no exceptions." Even though his voice conveyed concern, not irritation, Carson still expected some sort of argument, but instead was met with wide, almost desperate eyes whose owner hadn't heard a word he'd just said. "Colonel? Is somethin' wrong?"

"I remembered," John blurted, lifting his head about half an inch from the pillow before fatigue forced him to drop back down.

"You remember?" Beckett asked, trying to follow a conversation that had obviously changed topics without notice.

"I remember what…happ'nd on th'….plan't," he slurred, enunciation requiring too much energy. "'s why I…woke up. Think I…killed someone, Carson…"

"Not possible, Colonel," Rodney piped in. "We were the only ones on PX9-253."

"No. He attacked me…in the ruins. Made me touch the…Ancient thing. Then drug me t' th' cab'n…I killed him…slit his throat…"

"Who?"

"I dunno…he looked kinda Egyptian…"

"An _Egyptian_ attacked you in some ruins on an uninhabited planet? Did he happen to raid the tombs of any pharaohs while he was at it?" McKay asked incredulously.

"He held a gun to my head, Rodney, and made me touch the Ancient device. After that, things get kinda fuzzy, right up…right up until I open his throat up with my knife…" Sheppard trailed off, swallowing hard and closing his eyes against the memory.

"Oh. I…see. Well, that's more of a description than I necessarily needed, but it sounds like he had it coming," Rodney commented, in his own form of absolution.

A slight shudder rippled through Sheppard, and even with his eyes closed he continued to look deeply disturbed by the memory. His heart rate agreed with him, having jumped to 140 in a matter of seconds.

"Colonel, Rodney's right. Whatever actions ya took, I'm sure ya had a good reason. Just try ta calm down and tell us what else ya remember. We'll get it sorted out."

"And then we need to discuss what I discovered this morning." McKay's tone wasn't the one he used when he'd made a _good_ discovery.

Opening his eyes, John found a very troubled look on the scientist's face and felt his own heart sink. "It didn't work."

McKay's mouth dropped open. "How did you…? I just found out five minutes ago!"

John winced at the increase in volume and made a downward motion with his palm. "Headache, remember? And I think I fell asleep before I finished…with the last ZPM."

"What? Where did you find a ZedPM?"

"You kinda give new meaning to…one-track mind, McKay." Sheppard shook his head. "Doesn't matter…know how to fix it now." He let out a sigh as his eyes drooped closed.

"What do you mean by that? Carson, what does he mean by that?" Rodney demanded.

Beckett rolled his eyes, but he too was curious. He squeezed John's shoulder. "Can ya stay with us for just a bit longer, Colonel? We really need ta figure out what's going on."

Sheppard slowly forced his eyes open, even as Rodney blurted, "What's going on is that our experiment last night didn't work and whatever Colonel Sleepy here did made things worse because according to my data, he's got the weaker mind now, not me."

John looked mildly surprised at that revelation, but mumbled, "Thought that's what you wanted, Rodney."

"Not at the expense of your life!"

"It won't come to that…I told you I know how to deactivate the device."

McKay was already shaking his head. "I've been over every inch of that thing ten times while you've been exploring the various dimensions of dreamland and I haven't found anything."

"That's because you're looking in the wrong place. We have to go back to the planet. That man I killed…I think he was trying to perfect the device, and he had an experimental solution for the exact problem we're having. I got the feeling it was some kind of drug. I think he hid it in the cabin somewhere…"

"Wait. You want to go look for an experimental drug, produced by some wacko who gave you a good enough reason to kill him? And then ingest said drug? _That's_ your plan for deactivating this thing?!"

John blinked rapidly, fighting another wave of drowsiness. "_He_ didn't come up with the drug, McKay. The Ancients did. He was just expanding on their research."

"Oh, okay, that makes all the difference then. No reason whatsoever to be worried about the untested modifications the madman has made to the untested Ancient medicine." Rodney rolled his eyes.

Sheppard let out a quiet growl of frustration. "I wasn't planning to use the stuff without having Beckett check it out first, but we can't even do that much until we _have_ it."

"It's still a ridiculous plan."

"Do you have a better one?" John shot back.

"Well…not exactly, but…"

"Good, because I do," Carson put in before the two had a chance to continue. "The both of ya can finish sleepin' off your last experiment before ya start in on another one. Neither of ya are in the best of shape right now. If this drug you're talkin' about is the solution, we'll discuss the possibilities, but the colonel—"

"Already took your advice," interrupted Rodney, pointing to his pale team leader, who was now deeply asleep, apparently having thrown in the towel for the time being.

Carson nodded once in satisfaction, then looked at McKay sharply. "Aye, now follow his example."

Rodney glared—the voodoo priest might decide to cast some more spells if he didn't act a little bit irked at being told what to do—but a _short_ nap didn't sound like a terrible idea, after which time he would demand to be released and go discuss the mission with Teyla and Ronon. He still thought Sheppard was nuts for wanting to take an unknown drug, but if they could find the drug then at least he'd have Carson to back him up on that. _Maybe gravity will decrease to normal in the meantime too_, he thought, allowing Beckett to steady him as he made his way back to his bed.

* * *

McKay's plan went off without a hitch, almost. He awoke after three hours from his nap, and Carson released him from the infirmary without argument, at which time he had gone to collect Teyla and Ronon on his way to Elizabeth's office. Permission was granted for the three of them to return to PX9-253, but Elizabeth helpfully pointed out that Rodney going off-world would be a bad idea considering that he was still linked with Sheppard. Having to concede that she was right, McKay ended up directing Teyla and Ronon to the cabin via radio from the control room. He hadn't particularly wanted to go back there anyway, but when Ronon closed the channel two minutes after locating the cabin, Rodney had been left with nothing to do but pace.

On his ninth pass by Elizabeth's office, the piece of paper sticking out of her trash can again caught McKay's eye. He'd first noticed it during their meeting. It was only one of about a hundred such flyers in the basket, and he wanted desperately to ask her if he could have a copy, but considering that one of his goals in life was to stay alive, he'd kept his mouth shut. Elizabeth was fed up with the pranks that had been taking place, and the plastering of said flyers all over her office walls was no exception. He hadn't really noticed that he'd stopped walking and was stretched up on his tiptoes, trying to see into the basket, until he was suddenly face to face with the leader of the expedition.

"Rodney, what are you doing?" Elizabeth asked without preamble.

"I, uh, well…pacing?"

"To pace, you usually need to _move_."

"Well, you see, I was moving and then I…"

"Stopped."

Rodney smiled. "Precisely."

"I see. Could I possibly get you to start moving again, _away_ from the control room, if I give you this?"

McKay's eyes widened when he noticed the golden sunburst corner of the folded sheet of paper in her hand and he reached for it greedily, but she snatched it back before he was able to grab it. He answered her raised eyebrows with an impatient frown.

"For Colonel Sheppard's eyes only, because he has a right to know what's going on, but only if Carson says he's well enough. John's not going to like it, and he doesn't need more stress right now."

The scientist smirked. 'Not going to like it' was an understatement.

"Rodney, I don't think I have to tell you how unhappy I'll be if this gets copied, e-mailed, or otherwise redistributed."

"Yes, yes, you'll poison my food with lemon juice or have Ronon kill me in my sleep. I know the drill." Rodney held out his hand, and with a final look of warning, Elizabeth handed over the paper.

McKay was still snickering over the flier as he entered the infirmary and made his way over to Sheppard's bed. Noticing that the colonel was still asleep, though, Rodney sobered and tucked the folded paper back into his pocket. Elizabeth was right, John was going to be furious when he found out, and he just didn't look like he had enough energy to be furious right now. Settling into the chair beside the bed, Rodney did something he rarely did: he sat quietly and watched his friend sleep. He'd been over and over the information from the Ancient database concerning the device and he couldn't immediately think of any new diagnostics to run, which bothered him. He secretly hoped that there _was_ a miracle drug back on that planet, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was running as short on ideas as Sheppard was on time.

McKay's mind began to wander as he sat and he was deeply pondering the possible ways to reverse-engineer a ZPM, had even begun scribbling notes on the back of a folder he'd found—good grief, Sheppard was right about his one-track mind!—when footsteps startled him from his reverie. He looked up and found Megan injecting something into John's IV. "Is he okay?" Rodney asked, thinking maybe he'd missed something important during his ruminations.

Megan smiled. "He's fine, Rodney. We're just trying to keep his pain under control."

"Oh. Good." Nodding, McKay turned back to his notes. In the same moment, he heard the unmistakable rumble of Ronon's voice. The Satedan entered the room, followed closely by Teyla, but McKay's focus went straight to the small pack in Ronon's hands.

"How is John?" Teyla asked Megan, and Rodney managed to pull his eyes from the bundle long enough to listen to the nurse's answer.

"He's gotten a few hours of sleep. We're keeping up a steady dosage of painkillers, as I was telling Rodney, and for the time being that seems to be keeping him comfortable, though I'm afraid the headache and muscle pain are still with him. I'll go get Dr. Beckett for you. I'm sure he'll want to know that you're back."

Teyla thanked Megan, and turned around just as Rodney snatched Ronon's bag from the floor in a poor attempt at stealth. When the move didn't cost him his hand, McKay went on to open the bundle. His jaw dropped. "What _is_ this?!"

"What's it look like?" Ronon said.

"KNIVES! You were supposed to be getting DRUGS!"

Ronon shrugged. "Didn't find any drugs, but that dead Egyptian guy didn't need these anymore."

"Seriously, what is it with you and Sheppard and this King Tut obsession?!"

"Told you he looked Egyptian," John mumbled, joining the conversation before he got his eyes fully open. It was difficult to sleep when McKay got going, no matter how tired one was.

"It is good to see you awake, John." Teyla smiled and bent to touch her forehead to his.

"Don't know if 'awake' is the right word," Sheppard said with a yawn. "Did you get it?"

Teyla's smile faded and she slowly shook her head no. "We searched all through the cabin, but what you spoke of was just not there."

"Except for the Egyptian pharaoh and his knife collection of course," Rodney muttered.

"No, it's there. You must have missed it," John shook his head.

"We turned the place upside down, Sheppard. I even pulled up a couple of floorboards. There weren't any drugs. Are you sure he didn't hide them somewhere else?"

"Look, he told me the drug was there. I'm still fuzzy on the details, but it's somewhere in that cabin and so is the answer to why I killed the guy. Take me back, I'll find it."

"What makes you think you'll find it if Conan couldn't? The only thing he's better at than shooting things is finding things."

Sheppard shrugged, "Maybe there's a hidden room or something. I don't know, Rodney, but what I do know is that I'm really damn tired of the headaches and we're getting nowhere sitting around here. Take me back."

"You're not strong enough, lad," Beckett replied, looking apologetic. He had arrived in time to catch the gist of the conversation. "I don't know that ya could stand up, let alone walk all the way ta that cabin and back. And no, that was _not_ a challenge," he added quickly, placing a restraining hand on John's shoulder when it looked like the colonel was about to try to prove him wrong.

"Then we'll take a jumper and I'll use a wheelchair. The area just south of the cabin is open enough to set down."

"I still don't think it's a good idea."

"Give me another option then, Carson. I'm not trying to be difficult."

Beckett sighed. "I know you're not, Colonel, but unfortunately that doesn't improve your strength any. Assuming I let ya do this—and I'm not saying yes yet—I wasn't in any way joking about ya not moving for 24 hours. Get some more sleep and we'll continue this discussion tomorrow."

John didn't look happy, but nodded his agreement, then turned his head back toward his teammates when he heard Rodney let out a yelp. Apparently Ronon had decided he wanted his knives back.

* * *

It was with a lot of reluctance and a lot of conditions that Beckett gave Sheppard the go-ahead for the return trip to the cabin the following afternoon. Looking at the colonel as Ronon steered his wheelchair up the ramp and into the jumper, Rodney had to agree with Carson's assessment. Right now, John still looked a lot more like an infirmary patient than a military leader. He was dressed in full gear, including weapons—for safety purposes, he'd insisted—but the sling on his left arm and the blanket around his shoulders entirely ruined the effect.

Carson followed Ronon, hauling two large medical kits and the laptop bag containing the Ancient device, and he was watching the colonel closely. He had ordered that, with the exception of an emergency, John was not to fly the jumper, walk anywhere that didn't explicitly require it, or do anything at all that demanded more energy than keeping his eyes open. As he was going through the pre-flight motions, Rodney mused that he would lay money on John falling asleep before they even reached the cabin. He didn't have time to dwell on the possibilities though, because Ronon dropped into the co-pilot seat and clapped him on the shoulder in a clear 'let's go' gesture. With one more glance over his shoulder to check that John was still awake and that Teyla was on board, Rodney took and released a calming breath before closing the hatch and easing the jumper down from the bay and into the gate room. A go-ahead and good luck from Elizabeth, and they were passing through the event horizon.

It had been mid-afternoon in the city, but was very early morning upon emerging from the gate on PX9-253. That was one of the things about gate travel McKay didn't think he'd ever get used to. Flying jumpers was another, and he quickly switched on the external lights before he ended up crashing into something.

The turbulent weather pattern from their first visit seemed to have calmed some, and though it was still cloudy, the wind had died down. Only an occasional breeze brushed past as the group crossed the scrubby tufts of grass and gravel that lay between the jumper and the cabin. Teyla led the way, followed by Rodney with his LSD and tablet in hand. The cabin had no ramp going up to its low porch, so Ronon set the brakes on the wheelchair, hauled Sheppard upright, and hovered as his team leader shakily walked up the steps and across the porch. Teyla and Rodney were already inside, and she had begun switching on lamps. John stopped at the open doorway. In the dim illumination, he could already see that something was missing, or rather _someone_. "Hey, Chewie, where's our Egyptian friend?" he asked in a low voice.

"Out back. He was getting a little ripe."

John made a face that was somewhere between disgusted and guilty and stepped across the threshold. He'd only taken a couple of steps inside when he stopped again, his posture stiffening. "Sheppard?" Ronon's eyes were on him, but flicked away every few seconds, looking for potential danger.

"Dunno big guy, something's different." John moved unsteadily in the direction of the fireplace, running his fingers along the smooth, stone surface of the mantel. The pain was instantaneous and nearly as intense as that first night in the infirmary when Carson had assailed him with the penlight. Every nerve ending above John's shoulders was on fire, and he couldn't help but cry out as memories forced their way back from wherever they'd been lying dormant. It was too much to process and so he just rode the wave as it shoved him backward into Ronon's arms and broke over him in a wash of numb darkness.

"Doc!" Ronon called sharply, but needn't have bothered. Beckett's curse was evidence that he'd seen the colonel's knees buckle and he hurried over as Ronon lowered John to the floor.

"What happened?" Teyla asked, turning at the commotion.

"He grabbed his head and passed out." Ronon said plainly.

"What did he touch now?" was McKay's question.

"Just the shelf there."

"Hmm." Rodney frowned and went back to tapping on his tablet screen, relatively unfazed by Sheppard's collapse after all that had happened.

"Doc?" prompted Ronon.

Carson finished his exam and shook his head at the Satedan. "His vitals are as good as I'd expect right now. It's possible he just passed out from the exertion of being up and around." _But somehow I doubt it_, Carson added to himself.

They moved Sheppard to the sofa in the center of the room, and Beckett had just covered him with the afghan that had been draped over its back when the colonel began to stir. His eyelids fluttered and after a few tries he got them about halfway open. "John? Are ya back with us, son?"

"'s I gone?" he mumbled, mostly to himself, before turning his head toward the sound of Carson's voice. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Ronon supplied.

"Why did I pass out?" John asked, still disoriented as his eyes shifted to the Satedan, then back to Beckett.

"I was hoping ya could tell me," Carson answered. "Ronon said ya seemed like your head was hurtin' ya again and then ya just collapsed."

"Never stopped hurting." Sheppard tried to sit up, and gave Beckett an annoyed look when the doc pushed him back down.

"Give yourself a few minutes, lad. There's no hurry."

John was all set to listen to Beckett, until he noticed the afghan. It was like a light bulb going on, and he sat up again automatically, ignoring the protests. "I remember where it is! I know what happened before too, all of it. The Egyptian guy was using me. I think it's why I passed out."

"You passed out because the Egyptian guy was using you?" McKay asked with a frown, withdrawing his head and shoulders from the fireplace where he'd been on his hands and knees studying something or other.

"No, Rodney. I passed out because remembering made my headache spike. What I remembered was that I was being used."

"Well why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"McKay," Ronon growled, and the scientist turned quickly back to his tablet. "How did he use you, Sheppard?"

"He needed me to get to the cure. When Rodney and I first arrived here several days ago he saw us coming, but he didn't know who we were so he put the drug in a cabinet in a hidden room for safe-keeping, only to realize that he couldn't get it back out again. He didn't know that the door would only unlock for someone who had the ATA gene. Apparently he'd never closed the door before." John shrugged. "Anyway, he followed us up to the ruins, and when he realized that we both had the ATA gene and that Rodney had already touched the Ancient device, he decided that we were the key to getting back into the room. So, after Rodney went to explore the caves, he attacked me and made me touch the device, then drug me back here and demanded that I open the door for him."

"Why didn't ya just go along with him and open the door?" Beckett wanted to know.

"I was a little out of it. After I touched the device, I couldn't think straight. It was like I'd been drugged. Then he started talking about McKay and I as if we were part of his experiment. I felt like I was going to pass out, and I knew that if I did and he had what he wanted, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't leave us here, linked to some malfunctioning piece of Ancient tech, or just kill us. When I took too long to answer him he fired a warning shot at me with his gun, and I just reacted. He'd taken my guns, but for some reason he'd left me my knife and I used it." John scrubbed a hand across his face wearily and allowed himself to sink back into the sofa. The memory was only clearer now for his relation of it, and for some reason it was getting to him. It wasn't the first time he'd taken a life in such a way, but this time he was second-guessing himself. When it had happened, he'd really thought that there was no other option. Now, he wasn't so sure. Maybe if he'd been thinking straight…

"So where's the secret room? Sheppard?"

John looked up to see Ronon and Beckett staring at him, the Satedan expectantly and the doc with concern. "It's—" Before he could say anything more, there was a loud thud from the direction of the fireplace, followed by a distinct "Ow!" and familiar, muffled cursing.

Teyla was closest, and she hurried over, but the scientist was nowhere to be seen. "Rodney? Where are you? Are you all right?"

"More or…oof!...less!" There were some scrabbling noises and eventually Rodney's head popped up from a large opening that was apparently present in the hearth. His face was covered in soot.

"Isn't there some guy on your planet that does this trick for holiday parties?" Ronon asked with obvious amusement.

"I believe you are talking about Santa Claus, Ronon," Teyla answered.

The Satedan frowned, looking confused. "I thought Santa Claus was the one with the magic flying antelope."

"Reindeer! Flying _reindeer_. Disregarding the problems with your first statement, it's the same guy, he's entirely fictional, and I'm not him, thank you very much!" Rodney grumped, carefully climbing the rest of the way up and out of the fireplace.

"You're not entirely fictional?"

Rodney groaned. "I'm not even acknowledging that comment lest my head explode from its stupidity. Sheppard," he said, making his way over to the couch and poking his team leader in the shoulder until John cracked open an eyelid. "As it may by this point be obvious," he gestured at his filthy clothing, "I've already done the dirty work. Now it's your turn."

"What's it my turn for?"

"When you touched the shelf above the fireplace you unlocked that secret room you kept insisting was here—your powers of accidental discovery never cease to amaze, by the way—and I literally fell into it. So, it's your turn to go find out what's in the room."

"You couldn't have checked that out while you were actually _there_, McKay?"

"I would have been happy to, Colonel, but there's only one thing in that room. It's a locked cabinet, with no key other than…"

"Other than my gene."

"Precisely."

"It won't open with your gene?"

Rodney glared.

"Is falling the only way to get in?" John asked resignedly, pushing himself up from the sofa and ignoring the look he was getting from Beckett.

"If you weren't already an invalid, I would skip telling you about the ladder."

"Gee thanks, McKay." John returned the scientist's smirk with a glare as Rodney helped him across to the fireplace.

"I know it looks cramped, but you're substantially skinnier than me, so you shouldn't have a problem."

"Funny." Sheppard surveyed the hearth of the fireplace with a flashlight, but still looked doubtful. It appeared as though he was going to be required to bend in ways that were currently inadvisable. He might make it in, but getting back out…

"I shall go first, that way I can help if you have difficulty with the ladder," Teyla offered, indicating his injured arm.

He offered her a smile of gratitude, which she acknowledged with a nod before ducking into the fireplace. John followed slowly, coming to find that he didn't have to bend quite as much as he'd first thought since directly above the opening in the floor was the cabin's chimney, allowing him to straighten almost completely. He managed the ladder on his own, but had to stop and rest upon reaching the bottom.

Leaning against a table, John surveyed his surroundings. It was just as Rodney had said: an empty room, with a tall cabinet in one corner, set into the wall. As with most hidden spaces he'd encountered in the Pegasus galaxy, this one had been created long before the cabin above. It was drafty, some of the stone was crumbling, and the air was faintly musty. Teyla lightly touched his shoulder, concern in her eyes. Smiling faintly, he pushed away from the table and moved to the cabinet. There would be plenty of time to sleep later on. He had no doubt Beckett would make certain of that.

Sheppard was unsure why the cabinet hadn't opened for McKay. It reacted to his proximity more than his touch it seemed, and the doors slid silently apart, revealing many empty shelves, a lone obsidian box occupying the one in the middle. The box didn't discriminate based on genetic material and he laid its smooth square lid aside on the table while he examined its contents. Navy blue felt lined the box and cushioned the cracker jack prize: a glass bulb about the size of a golf ball with two perpendicular metallic bands gilding its circumference. John picked up the sphere. The substance inside appeared viscous and was murky white in color, with faintly iridescent swirls throughout.

"Is that what Ronon and I were supposed to bring back?"

"Let's hope so," John said, grinning at her. He turned the sphere over in his hand, it was perfectly uniform all the way around. "Well, I guess we should get this up to Beckett so he can take a look."

Teyla was about to voice her agreement when the colonel swayed. "John?" she grabbed onto his arm to steady him.

"Oh crap."

"What is wrong?"

John turned and held his hand out to her. The glass bulb wobbled on his shaky palm, blood welling beneath it from three small punctures. The sphere was empty.

**TBC…**


	11. Side Effects

**Chapter 11 – Side Effects**

"Are you in pain?" Teyla asked, eyeing the punctures on Sheppard's hand.

"No…getting a little woozy, though." John swayed again and Teyla offered him the box to put the sphere back, then pulled his arm quickly around her shoulders.

"Can you make it back up the ladder?"

"I think so."

"Good. Go ahead of me."

John didn't argue, mounting the first rung with her support, then slowly pulling himself upward. Teyla started up behind him, keeping alert in case he faltered. It was perhaps fifteen feet to the top and he made good time with the first five rungs, then stopped, and she could hear him panting above her. "Colonel?"

"I'm…good." He started again, slower this time, and was within three rungs of the top when his body seemed to go slack.

"John?" Teyla waited a moment, but he didn't respond. His knees started to buckle though, and she scrambled up behind him, wedging her feet onto the same rung as his, while reaching around and leaning her weight into his back to hold them both to the ladder. "Ronon!"

The Satedan appeared at the top of the shaft a moment later with a flashlight, and he must have had a better view of Sheppard's face than she did because he immediately cursed and dropped down to lay flat on his stomach, reaching toward his teammates. "I've got him. Let go and climb back down, then I'll pull, you push."

"Very well."

Within moments they were back on solid ground, as it were, and Rodney was firing questions so fast that he was missing the answers Teyla was giving to Carson. What had happened? They'd found the box with the sphere and it had injected John with whatever it contained. He'd started to feel lightheaded and passed out while climbing back up. Was it the cure the colonel had been looking for? Maybe, she wasn't sure.

Teyla handed Carson the stone box with the now-empty glass bulb and stepped aside so he and Ronon could carry Sheppard back to the sofa. She was hopeful when John's eyelids fluttered, but other than brief incoherent mumbling, he did not wake and she was forced to join the others in waiting.

Carson examined John thoroughly, but the most he could say with certainty was that the colonel was asleep. Be it from whatever was now running through his bloodstream or exhaustion, he didn't know, but he leaned toward the former since he couldn't wake his patient by any conventional method.

After a time, Ronon grew impatient with waiting and excused himself to get some air—if you could consider a grunt and a wave excusing oneself. Teyla was asking Carson questions about brainwaves, trying to better understand what was happening to John. Rodney lapsed into perturbed silence, once again bringing his arsenal of scanners and computer equipment to bear on the Ancient device. Its power levels hadn't declined, but they were beginning to fluctuate again, giving him sufficient puzzlement to stay distracted until a sizable amount of rustling from the direction of Carson's open med kits caught his attention.

Taking stock of the scene, he quickly noticed that John was again sporting an IV and would soon be hooked to a cardiac monitor. Rodney had been working for slightly over two hours, but it still begged the question, "He's getting worse?"

"Not exactly worse, just…slowing down."

McKay looked from his motionless friend back to Carson and scowled. "What does that mean?"

"His internal systems are slowing down. Heart rate, respiration, even his temperature and blood pressure are slowly declining below what is normal for someone at rest."

"Why?"

"I can only suppose that it's due ta that substance he was injected with. Has there been any change with the device?" Beckett asked hopefully.

"If you count power fluctuations with no rhyme or reason," Rodney said crossly. He set aside his tablet and stood up, cracking his back. "Ronon better not have stolen all my power bars. I'm starving." He made his way over to his pack and rummaged around, coming up with three bars. Unwrapping one, he stuffed the other two in his pocket. "Where is Conan, anyway? Even he doesn't need that much air. Come to think of it, where's Teyla?"

"I believe they went stargazing."

"But it's cloudy!"

"Well why don't ya go find them and see what they're doin' for yourself then?" Beckett said with a touch of impatience.

"No, that's all right. I've had enough of exploring this place, thank you very much." Rodney paced the length of the cabin a few times, eventually coming to a stop near the sofa. Instinctively he reached out a hand, but at the last moment snatched it back, not sure what he'd been intending to do. If Sheppard chose that moment to wake up, it would be awkward if he found Rodney patting his arm or squeezing his hand. Of course, Rodney was no stranger to awkward, and he didn't think there was much danger of the colonel waking, but that didn't really solve anything.

Carson stepped away and McKay felt even more self-conscious that Beckett had noticed his almost-gesture. Then he said the hell with it and reached out again, poking Sheppard's shoulder with his index finger. The brief flash of a glowing grid before his eyes was unexpected and Rodney again yanked his hand back. He glanced at Beckett, but the doctor was digging through a pack and hadn't seen his startled motion. Being the scientist that he was, McKay had to try again in order to prove or disprove his hypothesis that he'd just had a hallucination. Moving slower, preparing himself, Rodney poked John again and this time didn't pull away when the same grid as before materialized. It turned out to be a HUD, like in the jumpers. That alone didn't really surprise him. The information scrolling across the display on the other hand…

"That's unbelievable!" Rodney studied the screen with wide eyes. It was the exact same layout as in the jumpers, with a large portion of the screen serving as a primary systems monitor and a lesser part monitoring external conditions and secondary systems. The systems weren't those of an Ancient spacecraft though, they were John's. His heartbeat, respiration, blood pressure, and half a dozen other things that Carson didn't even usually keep track of were plainly displayed on the screen. And while he wasn't sure how, Rodney understood what all of it meant.

Shifting his eyes away, the physicist took in the other side of the screen and his astonishment grew. The power level of the Ancient device was graphed in real time, a function calculated on the colonel's level of consciousness and the drug's level of absorption in his system. "That's just…cool!"

"What's that Rodney?"

McKay heard Beckett's voice as if at a distance, but it was easily ignorable. The sudden presence of a hand on his shoulder startled him enough that he inadvertently broke contact with Sheppard, though.

"Rodney?"

"Huh?" McKay asked, rather unintelligently if he did say so himself, but he figured he was allowed since snapping immediately from jumper interior, soaring through the clouds to cabin interior, standing still, was fairly disconcerting.

"I asked what was cool." Beckett frowned, taking in the scientist's utterly shocked expression. "Are ya all right? Ya look like ya just saw a ghost."

McKay let out a breath. "No, not a ghost, much scarier than that. I think I just saw the inside of Sheppard's mind…though really, all things considered, it wasn't that scary. I would have expected a lot worse from him…"

Beckett rolled his eyes.

"It was the cockpit of a jumper," McKay said, going on to describe what he'd seen.

"Was there any indication of what the drug is doing ta him?"

"The levels haven't equalized yet. When they do, it will show up on the graph." The words spilled out, and after they did, McKay's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

"What levels?" Beckett asked.

Rodney just shook his head. "The drug…I think? Look, I have no idea how I know what I just told you, and I don't have enough information at this point to tell you what it means, so don't ask."

"Will ya be able ta connect with the colonel again if ya need to?" Carson asked thoughtfully.

At that, Rodney panicked. "You want me to do it _again_?! Look, just because I said it was cool doesn't mean I want an encore!"

The scientist's discomfort at the idea was no real surprise to Carson. John had displayed much the same reluctance when their roles had been reversed, but the colonel's exhaustion at the time had served well to mask it. "Hopefully there won't be a need for that, Rodney, but this is the most accurate source of information we have on what's goin' on with that drug and the Ancient device. Assuming the colonel doesn't come out of this on his own, we may need ta intervene, and it would be helpful if this connection of yours is a repeatable process if it comes ta that."

"Well, I'm not sure there's enough data to count what I saw as accurate," the scientist muttered, "but I can do it again if I have to." He looked down at Sheppard for a few moments before asking Beckett, "What do you plan to do in the meantime? Make a sculpture out of chicken bones?"

The question lacked much of McKay's usual acerbic tone and Carson just sighed in response. "As near as Colonel Sheppard's vitals are tellin' me…and you…he's comfortably asleep. Considering all that he's been through, I don't see that that's a bad thing. I'll be monitoring him closely, but unless and until something changes, we wait."

* * *

And wait they did, all through the night and into the middle of the following morning. When Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla returned from a short hike around the cabin, they were startled to find Beckett poking Sheppard's foot with a pin.

"Hey, don't you think that's taking my voodoo comments far too literally?!" McKay asked, wide-eyed. When Carson responded with a look of concern rather than an annoyed frown, Rodney produced the frown himself and demanded, "What's wrong?"

"I tried again ta wake the colonel just now, but I wasn't able. He's not respondin' ta painful stimuli either," Carson dropped the pin back into its container, "and his body's still slowin' down."

"How bad is it?" Ronon questioned.

Beckett shook his head and shrugged slightly. "It's not bloody good. If things keep goin' as they have the last hour…" the doctor turned his worried eyes on Rodney, who swallowed uncomfortably and tried to focus his attention elsewhere. He ultimately failed in the attempt when Teyla gave him a significant look and Ronon nudged him none-too-subtly toward John.

"His body's just…shutting down?" McKay asked quietly after a long moment.

"If the decline keeps on as it is, aye."

"Why now?"

"That's what I need ya ta try ta find out, Rodney. I'm down ta speculation. Ya have a very unique connection ta the colonel right now. I know ya aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, but—"

"Yeah, yeah, return the favor and all that. I get it." Rodney took a deep breath, "You so owe me for this, Sheppard." Without further comment, he reached out and clasped John's shoulder.

If the first time had been disconcerting then this time around was downright terrifying. Not even two seconds after the jumper materialized around him, its nose pitched sharply downward. Rodney grabbed for the back of the pilot's chair, his eyes glued to what lay beyond the windscreen. Gone were the bright blue skies. Lightning flashed, and black clouds billowed past. Inside, things weren't much better. All systems were running on emergency power alone, and while the autopilot was engaged, it was obvious the jumper was losing altitude. McKay almost panicked—he was an amateur pilot at best, and here he was stuck inside a malfunctioning jumper—but then his eyes once again fell on the power-graphing of the Ancient device on the HUD and he reminded himself that this was only a representation of Sheppard. Not that John crashing and burning was a comforting thought in any way, but it _likely_ took his own demise out of the immediate picture…unless that whole transference-of-injury thing worked in reverse also, in which case…crap.

If ever there were a reason to set aside panic and look at a situation objectively, self-preservation always had been and always would be the one reason that motivated Rodney. If that made him a selfish bastard, then, well, at least John would be alive and would have a living selfish bastard to thank for it. McKay sat down in the pilot's chair and glanced over the controls, glad that John's mind had chosen to keep the standard jumper configuration and hadn't gone and moved anything important, like, say, the altitude controls. If he had, then McKay might not have tried the most obvious solution first and pulled up on the controls. Had he failed to do that, he would have also missed the very slight decrease in the device's power.

Even seeing it, the levels were fluctuating so much that it took the scientist some time to figure out that he'd actually caused the power decrease by pulling up, and more specifically, by making two of the lines on the HUD's real-time graph intersect in a nearly paper-thin green range. It was through trial and error that he'd worked it out, and not a moment too soon. The black clouds seemed even more ominous now that rain was buffeting the jumper in sheets, driven by winds that Sheppard's version of inertial dampeners were having a difficult time compensating for.

McKay realized that the intersecting lines represented the very same 'unequal levels' he'd told Beckett about after his first connection with Sheppard, and suddenly the whole problem seemed so clear that he almost laughed. Almost, because he still had a long way to go in fixing it. One of the lines was John's level of consciousness. The other was the drug's rate of absorption in his body, and somehow the first was directly affecting the second. If Sheppard's level of consciousness approached wakefulness, then the drug's absorption rate spiked, which in turn caused the jumper to dive—his vitals crashing, his brain activity approaching comatose levels, as it was now. If, on the other hand, his level of consciousness stayed in the realm between wakefulness and comatose, the absorption slowed to its optimal rate and his vitals stabilized. It seemed, then, that it was just a matter of ensuring that John remained in a deep sleep, not being allowed to wake until the drug had metabolized sufficiently to allow his ATA gene to take over the regulation of absorption.

Rodney blinked in surprise. He just couldn't get used to random facts like that being planted in his head, but he had to admit it would have been nearly impossible to figure any of this out otherwise. It wasn't like there was a how-to manual present. Gripping the controls tighter he pulled up, keeping one eye on the graph and the other on the storm. The turbulence was making it hard to keep on an upward track, but eventually Sheppard's consciousness-meter responded and entered the graph's tiny green zone. With difficulty, Rodney held altitude there and watched as the other line merged into the green and the device's power level began to drop minutely.

It was the equivalent of flying in the eye of a hurricane, McKay thought. Clouds swirled angrily all around, but the longer he was able to hold things in the green, the more the atmosphere in the immediate vicinity of the jumper calmed. Hands steady on the controls he waited, not about to turn it back over to autopilot, even though it looked to be hours, possibly longer, until Sheppard's gene would be able to take over.

"Rodney, what's going on?"

As before, Carson's voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance, but it still startled him, and McKay tightened his grip on Sheppard's shoulder even as his hands fisted tighter around the controls of the jumper. "Kind of busy here, Carson."

"Aye, I can see that. John's vitals have improved remarkably in the last ten minutes. What did you do?"

"It's not the kind of thing I feel comfortable explaining while piloting a jumper through a hurricane, so you're just going to have to wait. Now, stop bothering me." It took all his effort to focus on the jumper and talk at the same time, so McKay barely felt the distant pat on his shoulder as he let his attention tunnel back down.

He grew curious as to why the ATA gene could control the absorption of the drug down the line, but not right away, and he searched for the answer as he worked to maintain the green levels on the graph. This time, the answer didn't invade his brain like some of the others had, but came slowly, in the form of the chemical makeup of the drug itself. Rodney wasn't a chemist, but anyone with even a high school science background could see that the molecular structure was incredibly complex—too complex, even, for as smart a gene as the ATA. As with the more intricate pieces of Ancient technology, it seemed there was a learning curve involved before the gene could help the body absorb and metabolize the drug effectively. McKay even had the sense that his own gene was helping to _teach_ Sheppard's through their connection with the device. Never mind that his gene didn't know how to process the drug either…

* * *

"Doc, what's McKay doing?" Ronon asked, stopping suddenly in the middle of his sixteenth pace across the cabin.

Carson looked up from his notes and he too tilted his head to the side in curiosity. It had been nearly three hours since Rodney had requested to be left alone, and Beckett had been glad to comply since Sheppard's vitals remained stable. Now, however… "I haven't the foggiest, lad." Beckett crossed to stand beside McKay, who was currently doing an excellent impression of the traditional Athosian greeting, his forehead resting against John's as he knelt beside the couch. "Rodney, care ta give me an update on the colonel?" When no response was forthcoming he reached out and grasped McKay's shoulder, surprised to feel slight tremors beneath his touch. Frowning, he shifted position and pressed his fingers to the side of McKay's neck. The man's pulse was racing, his skin felt clammy, and it was quite obvious from this angle that his position wasn't so much a strategic one but rather one to keep him from falling over. "I was afraid of that."

"What is wrong?" Teyla asked, joining Beckett and Ronon around her other teammates.

"This mental connection they're sharing is extremely physically taxing for the conscious person. When their roles were reversed, I thought that perhaps it was just the colonel's pre-existing injuries that exhausted him so quickly, but that doesn't appear ta be the case."

"So what do we do?" asked Ronon.

"For starters, we move that chair over here. I'd like ta see if we can get Rodney ta sit down."

Ronon eyed the big armchair for a moment, then shoved the coffee table aside with his foot and plunked the chair down in its place, sliding it until it was directly behind McKay. Moving the scientist was less of a chore than they expected. His body was like silly putty and with Carson on one side and Ronon on the other it took very little effort to lift him into the chair. The difficult part was making sure he didn't lose contact with Sheppard in the process.

"Now what?" Any answer to Ronon's question was precluded by John's and Rodney's eyes popping open in unison. Both men sat bolt upright and sucked in huge breaths of air before abruptly collapsing into one another.

**TBC…**


	12. Disconnected

**Chapter 12 – Disconnected**

John remembered pain, even though he had been unconscious and unaware of it at the time—searing fire as the Ancient drug pushed through his veins, trying to burn its way through into the rest of his body. He remembered the gathering storm, the angry clouds on the horizon, the bright white lightning illuminating them from within. He remembered the terrifying dive toward the ocean and having no strength to pull out of it, his body consumed in a blinding rush of agony and confusion. He remembered trying unsuccessfully to fight down the panic, to think, just think about anything. And he remembered hands closing over his on the controls, lending him the strength necessary to pull up and keep from crashing into the deadly storm-tossed waters below.

Sheppard knew without question that it had been Rodney. He remembered a frantic, freaked-out determination that only McKay could exude, and it had been oddly reassuring. He'd let go of the controls then, knowing that McKay had a better chance of getting them through the storm in one piece than he did. Apparently he'd been right about that because he found himself staring at the infirmary ceiling through half-open eyes. John didn't remember the trip home. After he'd let go, he didn't remember much of anything, except for flashes of pain and McKay's constant, frantic, annoying, centering presence. Now he felt numb. The headache that had plagued him for however many days was gone, his blood no longer tried to set fire to his arteries as it pulsed through them. He couldn't feel Rodney's presence anymore…which really wasn't very comforting at all.

John lifted his head anxiously and looked around, his strength giving out just as he spotted McKay in the bed next to his. Dropping back onto the pillow, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and listened to the beeping of the monitors, the one keeping track of his heartbeat slowing back down so that it nearly fell into sync with Rodney's. Even knowing that McKay was right there, alive, John still felt oddly detached and alone. He chalked it up to being tired and closed his eyes, fully expecting to be asleep again within seconds, but sleep just wouldn't come. He lay there for a few minutes before the silence got the better of him. "Rodney?" A moment passed, and John rolled his head to the right and tried again, "Hey, McKay, you awake?" Still getting no response, he sighed and turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

"Sheppard? God, what time is it?" Rodney groaned.

John turned back so quickly that he felt something pull in his neck. "Late…sorry," he shot the scientist a sheepish grin.

"Yes, well, since I'm awake now, what do you want?"

"Just…nothing, just making sure you were okay." John cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked back at the ceiling.

"Jeez, Sheppard, it's the middle of the night…that better not be the only thing you woke me up for, because if it is, I swear I'll…"

John ignored the scientist's grumping and asked hesitantly, "Do you...remember anything from when I connected with you before?"

"No. I was in a coma, remember?"

"Oh."

Was that disappointment in Sheppard's voice? Rodney turned to look at the colonel and frowned, "Why, do you remember something? Carson's the one you need to blame for that, by the way. He made me connect with you."

John laughed softly, but when he spoke his voice was sober, "I was flying through a storm, but the jumper wouldn't respond. I was going down, I knew I was, and I couldn't pull out of the dive…but then it felt like there was someone else there, holding off the storm, helping me fly…" Sheppard trailed off, looking at Rodney then and not missing the deer-in-the-headlights expression before the scientist became very interested in the ceiling. The silence stretched on for a few moments and John started to wonder if McKay was ignoring him.

"I did have a strange dream—more like a hallucination, really—before."

"Yeah?" John prompted when Rodney didn't elaborate.

"You know, I'm surprised those drugs Carson used are even legal because they seriously messed me up. I mean, I could've sworn you were doing a mind-meld on me. You even recited that saying from Star Trek…you know, 'my mind to your mind, etc., etc.' which you would totally never do."

John managed to close his mouth before Rodney saw that it was hanging open, and he cleared his throat, "No, no of course not."

They both turned back to stare at the ceiling, and it was fully five minutes before McKay broke the silence again, "Sheppard?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't…um…tell anyone about the dream, okay?"

"'kay. Don't tell anyone I almost crashed a jumper," John mumbled tiredly.

"Go to sleep, Sheppard."

* * *

"He's not awake yet, but his vitals have been stable since early this morning so I'm hopeful…no, no indication of brain damage…aye, same for Rodney…all right, love."

John listened without any particular interest, slowly figuring out that Carson was conversing with someone over the radio. He was still drifting a little and so the doctor's approaching footsteps didn't fully register until warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, checking his pulse. His body jerked slightly in surprise and with an effort he managed to open his eyes just a little, but they felt sticky and didn't want to focus.

"That's it, lad, come on back," Beckett encouraged softly.

Sheppard blinked, trying to comply with the request. He shifted, apparently the wrong way, and immediately squeezed his eyes closed against the painful throbbing that awakened in his arm. His breath hitched, his mind immediately recalling the incident in the rec room, but he managed to drag his focus back to Carson who was worriedly calling out to him. "Hurts…" John whispered, his throat too dry and breathing too shallow to do more than that.

"Your arm?" Beckett questioned, concerned until he received a small nod from his patient. With the way Sheppard had reacted, he had feared the migraine was still plaguing the man. He patted the colonel's shoulder. "Hold on for just a moment, son. I'll get ya somethin' for that."

John nodded, eyes still closed, and listened to the footsteps retreat. They soon returned, and he let out a deep breath as the throbbing faded away due to whatever the doc had injected in his IV. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Sorry about that, lad. Ya banged your arm pretty good when ya came to at the cabin and we had ta fix a few torn stitches when we got ya back here, but I didn't want ta give ya too much in the way of pain medication until I'd run some blood work and seen ya awake."

"'s okay."

"How are ya doing otherwise? Any pain?"

"Maybe a little stiff from laying around, but otherwise no," John said, sounding surprised. "Does that mean…?"

Beckett smiled and nodded. "As far as I can tell, aye. You're no longer bein' affected by the device. In fact, we left it back on PX9-253. Ronon wanted ta destroy it, but until I was certain ya wouldn't suffer any ill effects, I told him ta leave it be. Thus far, it looks like he may still get his wish."

"How'd you turn it off?" Sheppard wanted to know.

"Rodney would be the one ta ask about that, I'm afraid." Carson pulled up a chair and sat down with a sigh. "Your body was shutting down, most likely as a result of that drug, but possibly just from the stress of the past few days. I have no way of knowing, as there wasn't much of the drug left ta analyze. Then Rodney connected with ya like you'd done with him, and things started ta turn around fairly quickly. I admit the two of ya scared a few months off my life when ya collapsed in a heap right afterward, though."

John winced. "Sorry."

Beckett waved off his apology. "Not your fault, lad. I'd say some sort of reaction was inevitable with everything that happened, but you and Rodney are both doing as well as can be expected now and that's what counts."

"Yeah, he seemed good when I talked to him earlier." Seeing the odd look on Beckett's face, John frowned. "What?"

"Colonel…this is the first either of ya has woken up. You've both been unconscious since we brought ya back last night."

John shook his head. "I talked to him a few hours ago, Doc. We discussed our weird…connection. You can't tell me I dreamed it all."

"I'm not saying that ya did, in fact I very much doubt it. Ya were unconscious, Colonel, not asleep. We've been continuously monitoring both of ya, which is why I can say with certainty that neither of ya woke up earlier."

"Well if I didn't talk to him and it wasn't a dream, how would you explain it?" John countered.

Beckett shrugged. "I'm not sure that I can, other than the fact that you and Rodney had somewhat of a rough night. Your heart couldn't decide whether it wanted ta beat too fast or too slow, and his blood pressure got so low at one point that he should've been in shock. Around 0330, Megan reported that both of your brain activity increased briefly, and about five minutes after that is when your vitals finally stabilized for good. Maybe ya experienced some sort of residual connection from the device?" Carson suggested. "It's really hard ta say, but unless it happens again, I wouldn't be all that concerned. You've both been through a lot."

John nodded slowly, considering it. "You're _sure_ that Ancient thing isn't still affecting us?"

"I'll be keeping ya here a day or two for observation, just ta make sure, but unless it's powerful enough ta span light years, I think it's safe ta say you're out of range, lad."

"Good to know," John said, looking over at McKay. "When do you think he'll wake up?"

Again Beckett shrugged. "It could be five minutes or five hours from now, but his vitals are good, so I don't doubt that he'll be awake sometime this afternoon. Speaking of which, if you're feeling up to it, Elizabeth has something she'd like ta discuss with ya. She said she'd stop by a little later on."

Sheppard nodded and opened his mouth to answer, but yawned instead. "Maybe I'll take a nap until she gets here," he said, giving Carson a sheepish grin.

Beckett snorted. "Good idea, Colonel. I'll leave ya to it. Just let us know if ya need anything."

"Will do. Thanks."

* * *

John was used to waking in the infirmary surrounded by his team, and while it wasn't unusual that Elizabeth would drop by at some point to check that he was all right, she didn't tend to do the whole bedside vigil thing. Waking from his nap to find Elizabeth rather than his team, then, caught John a little off-guard, even though he'd been expecting her. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Elizabeth said, smiling as she put down the book she'd been reading. "Carson says you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, the headache's gone, hopefully for good this time." He yawned again, in spite of having just woken up. "Sorry, the painkillers Beckett has me on for my arm are making me a little sleepy."

Elizabeth returned his smile. "I'll say. He told me you decided on a 'nap' almost four hours ago."

John ignored her teasing and craned his neck toward Rodney's bed. "McKay's still out?"

"Yes, but Carson said not to worry. He still expects Rodney to be awake by tonight, it's just taking him a while. Apparently connecting with that Ancient device is hard work."

"Yeah, you could say that," John replied with a wry smile before deciding to change the subject. "I heard you wanted to talk to me about something?"

Elizabeth nodded. Her expression grew serious, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that John couldn't quite put his finger on. "I hope you don't mind, but I had Major Lorne temporarily re-arrange the duty rosters," she began. "A…situation…developed in your absence that needed to be handled immediately."

"What kind of a situation?" John asked warily, anxiety beginning to creep in.

"Nothing serious, just a trading mission that I felt could do with a little extra military backup. I had Major Lorne provide me with a list of…candidates…and assigned them to the mission based upon his recommendation. The major's own team accompanied them, just to make sure there was no trouble. It's only fourteen of your men, and they're due back just over four days from now, possibly sooner depending on how things go on P8X-992."

P8X-992?! John's eyes widened, then narrowed at the mischievous look on the expedition leader's face. "Elizabeth," he asked slowly, "what reason could you possibly have to send fourteen of my men, plus Lorne's team, to _Snow Globe_?!" They both knew the planet wasn't nearly dangerous enough to require an enhanced military presence for trade. It had gotten its nickname for a reason: its climate was frigid and snowy, and its people could have been the cast of a children's movie about Santa's village at the North Pole. They weren't elves or anything like that…just annoyingly, overwhelmingly friendly and cheerful. And they liked to sing. A lot. Thinking about it, John suddenly put two and two together, and grinned in spite of himself, but then his expression sobered, remembering his last trip there. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

Elizabeth looked genuinely surprised. "You don't think I'm letting them off too easily? I would have thought after what Rodney showed you…"

"Rodney never showed me anything."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, then carefully unfolded a sheet of paper from her pocket and turned it to face him, smirking a little when his jaw dropped. "Still think I was too harsh?"

John just groaned, taking the paper from her. He felt a slight flush creep into his face as he stared at his and Elizabeth's faces plastered onto bodies—albeit bodies that were obviously not their own—clad in nothing but skimpy bathing suits and holding P-90s. He slowly brought his eyes to meet hers and they shared an uncomfortable look before he asked with trepidation, "How much damage was done?"

"I can't be sure. They were plastered over every inch of my office walls one morning, but somehow I don't think the culprit was quite brave enough to send it as a citywide e-mail."

"But I thought you said McKay had a copy…"

"He's been told in no uncertain terms what would happen if he passed this on. I think it's safe to say that, for once, his lips are sealed."

"At least until he wakes up, or needs some good material for blackmail."

"I thought it was customary to be nice to sick people," a voice mumbled nearby.

"Hey, McKay, it's about time!" John carefully shifted and grinned, watching his friend's attempts at getting his eyes open. He was somewhat jealous at how quickly Rodney succeeded.

"Yes, well, I would've been awake sooner but someone insisted on waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me stories about crashing jumpers."

"Hey! I thought we agreed not to discuss that further."

"No, you agreed not to tell anyone about my…hallucination. Then you listened to my advice and went to sleep," McKay smiled smugly.

Elizabeth watched their exchange curiously. She could have sworn Carson said they'd both been unconscious all night. Her radio beeped then, distracting her from their conversation. "This is Weir."

"Ma'am, Lt. Davis and Sgt. Munroe are requesting to return to Atlantis from P8X-992."

"Have they been briefed by Major Lorne about the consequences of an early return?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Elizabeth grinned, fighting to keep the amusement from her voice as she replied, "Very well. Let them through." When she tapped off her radio, she found John staring at her.

"Consequences of an early return?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"They can stay the week, or return early and be subject to a week's worth of special duty assignments."

"What kind of special duty assignments?"

Shrugging, Elizabeth picked up her book. "That's up to you. I got mine, Colonel. Now it's your turn. Consider it a get well present that I never want to know another thing about."

"Yes, ma'am." Sheppard grinned and Elizabeth high-fived him on her way out the door.

**THE END!!!!**


End file.
